Reawakened
by FandomsUnited13
Summary: A bloodline that is considered myth even among supernaturals re-emerges from the shadows. In fact, it would've stayed there if Stiles had listened to Scott and Derek, but with both of them gone and Malia distracted, Stiles leaves for some relaxation. Stiles should know by now that you can't run from the supernatural. Post-3b. No pairings yet. *sucky summary alert* OCs
1. Prologue

**Authors Note: Well I have had this plot in my head since the end of season 3b but I did not know how to execute it. I wrote this in avoidance of doing a Biology IA that is due tomorrow. I have the basic plot for the story written down but I am not entirely sure if I am going to post it, I mean I will if people request it. I will also be submitting this on AO3. The word count is roughly 1.5k I think that is good for a prologue. Correct me if I am wrong. This is also not Beta'd so if there are any grammar mistakes it is all on me (even though English is my first language). This also has some darkness to it, not entirely sure trigger warning because it does not go into detail, but you were (kinda) warned. Now enough of my prattling onto the story.**

**Disclaimer: Oh the things I would do if I owned Teen Wolf...ehem sterek. js. **

* * *

Reawakened: Prologue

The corridor was dark and cold. The lights on the sides of the walls gave the corridor a blue hue. Stiles could see his breath with every exhale. Keeping his hand on the wall for support in case something happens to the barely visible ground underneath his feet. As he walked down the corridor, the temperature steadily dropped. Stiles looked up from the ground to search for an exit. He found one up ahead. He squinted to see them – doors made up of grates – light was flooding in through the holes. Picking up the pace as he saw a shadow pass by the doors.

His hand let go the rough wall and he sprinted to the door. He tried to open it, only to find it locked. His hands latched onto the frame and he shook it. Stiles froze when he heard it – a bloodcurdling scream that echoed down the hall – and felt as if the scream sounded familiar. He pulled on the handle, metal creaking at the pressure. The door opened with a groan and Stiles took no time in sprinting out of the corridor. He found himself at the school standing in the middle of the hallway, the very same where _it_ was expelled. Repressing a shudder, he searched frantically for the owner of the scream by sprinting from classroom to classroom opening the doors. After checking the whole hall, he moved to the stairs to go up to the next floor. That is when he saw it out of the corner of his eye. Scott was bleeding out from a wound with a figure standing over him.

"Scott!" Stiles shouted.

He broke out into a full sprint to help his friend. The form turned revealing who it was. Stiles tripped when he saw a mirror image of himself. His face was contorted with a malicious grin and his eyes dark.

"You-" Stiles breathed out. His heart skipped a beat before adrenaline rushed through his body along with the rage.

"YOU!" Stiles lunged at himself – the Nogitsune in his form.

Stiles went to swiftly punch him in the stomach and he was caught off guard when his hand did not hit flesh, but instead heard metal piercing skin. Shocked, he looked down to find a sword in his hand and now impaling his double. The smirk did not fade from the Nogitsune's face, instead his appearance started to flicker. Dread started to seep into Stiles when he stepped back and let go of the sword handle. The Nogitsune's form started flickering in between his own attire – a pair of gray skinnies and a graphic tee – to a floral skirt with black stockings and a purple V-neck tee, all topped with a jean jacket. Stiles knew that style; he had known only one person with that sense, _Allison_. The Nogitsune's face was replaced with her fair one, now slack with shock. Her hands went up to the sword still lodged in her stomach. Stiles backed up until his foot caught on the ground making him fall against the hard, tile floor. He started to hyperventilate. Allison spoke and his whole world came crashing down.

"It's your fault Stiles" she paused, her eyes expressing no emotion.

Scott, who was still on the floor, started to sob. His attire changed to the one he wore at her funeral. Another figure approached from the locker room, it was Aiden. He was wearing a bloodstained shirt and was covered in dirt. He stood right next to Allison and looked down at Stiles. Stiles had started to shake from both the temperature and anxiety.

"We should have killed you right when we found out. It would have saved so many lives, Stiles" Aiden hissed out his name with such venom that Stiles stopped breathing.

Images flashed through his head of everyone that had died when he was possessed. He had looked up the victims even though both his father and Scott had said that it was not his fault. Stiles had printed out pictures of them and hid them in between his mattress and box spring so that he would never forget them. He had to they would still be alive if not for him. Stiles was so wrapped up in guilt that he almost did not catch the sound.

"Yeah." It was whispered so quietly that Stiles only caught it because the person who said it moved immediately attracting his attention. It was from Scott.

Scott stood, eyes glowing bright red. He started stalking towards Stiles as he spoke.

"If we killed you first, she would still be here!" Scott roared his voice taking on a more animalistic quality near the end.

Stiles started scooting himself backwards. His strength was not enough to pick himself up off the ground and run. He had lost it when he saw his friend's expression. The hatred that was blatant in Scott's eyes broke Stiles. Scott was his best friend, his brother in all but blood. A sob wracked through stiles catching in his throat. Tears that were swimming in his eyes began to fall. The three started to surround him speaking at once.

"It's your fault."

"You should've died."

"Why did you live when people – innocent people – died?"

"Murderer."

"We would be doing the world a favor by killing you, Stiles."

The three crowded around the broken boy. Aiden crouched down at his left, Allison at his right. The two grabbed his arms and pulled. They brought him into a kneeling position. Stiles hung his head in defeat. 'What they were saying is true; I am a murderer.' Stiles thought and brought his head up to look at his former best friends face. Rage had brought out the wolf. Scott raised his clawed hand.

"I always avenge my pack," he said as he brought his hand down. In one swift moment, the claws pierced his throat and slashed. The scream died in Stiles' throat and ended up as a gurgle. The world went black.

* * *

Stiles woke up screaming. He jolted up from the couch almost falling to the ground because his legs were tangled up in the sheets. The movie credits were playing off the TV. He looked over to the clock. It was 7 a.m. his dad was surely at the station already.

'Must've fallen asleep on accident,' Stiles thought rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

He walked to the kitchen to make himself some breakfast. He pulled out bread, butter and jam. Shoving the bread into the toaster and starting it, he started to recount his dream. He repressed a shiver at the words and opened a drawer to grab a knife (for the butter do not worry). Stiles was glad that he convinced Scott and Malia to stay at their own houses and that Stiles' father was already at work. Stiles does not think that he could have handled seeing Scott so soon. Scott's enraged face jumped to the forefront of his mind. He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair causing it to stick up. He jumped when the bread popped out of the toaster. Quickly grabbing them and coating them in a generous amount of butter. He cleaned off the knife and helped himself to the jam, spreading it evenly on the slices.

It had only been a couple weeks since the Nogitsune and Stiles was finally on winter vacation. He was tossed as to what he should do for the break yesterday, but the dream made him rethink his plans. As much as he hated to admit it, Stiles was not completely 100 percent fine and he doubted he ever would be, but to try to get there he needed a break. One place immediately jumped to forefront of his brain; a place he has not been to since the beginning of the whole werewolf business. He swallowed the last bit of his toast and opened the fridge to take a swig of milk straight from the carton. When he put the lid back on, he was sure of what he would do; he was going to the beach.

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**So..? How did ya'll like it? Its my first published fanfiction so plz be a little nice...**

**TEEN WOLF! bluetears out~**


	2. Chapter 1: To Forget

Reawakened- Chapter 1: To Forget

**Author's Note: Woo. Alrighty. Chapter one. Since I was asked to continue this story, from both AO3 and FF, I will. My goal is to update every Friday or once a week. It's almost 12 here. That's close enough to Friday. Right? Thanks to Jamesk19 for being my first reviewer and follower! Cookie for you! I hope I don't disappoint you with what it is and the plot. This chapter contains some mentions of violence and some curse words. And I just realize I've been adding an extra r to Sheriff. This chapter is around 5.5k words. That'll probably be the average for them, but I hoping to be able to increase them as this story progresses. Now without further ado Chapter 1: To Forget.**

**~Warning~**

**Not beta'd. You have been warned.**

**Disclaimer: oh the things I would do if I owned Teen Wolf...Scissac js**

* * *

Stiles was packed and ready to leave the house before the clock could strike nine. Stuffing his duffel his car and checked the locks he called his father to tell him of his plans. He picked up on the second ring.

"Yes, Stiles?" The Sheriff asked cautiously. The only time Stiles calls him at the station is bad news, he usually texts.

"Nothing happened. I was just calling to tell ya that I am going to the beach." Stiles leaned against the car not wanting to get in it until he got the okay, especially after the last few months. He did not want to worry his father any more than usual.

There was a pause.

"Which one?"

"Near Baker beach," 'the one we went to after mom died', was left unspoken by Stiles but it was fully understood by his father.

"How long do you expect to be there? Where are you staying? Do you have enough mon-", Stiles cut his father off there. He wanted to joke with his father about how he had thought of all this before and called the inn he was going to be staying in already. However, he did not. His father had a right to be worried, he found out about the supernatural just days before the possession.

"Around six days. That gives me enough time to chill and still be back in time for Christmas."

He heard his dad start typing something before he answered.

"Are you going to go fishing?"

"Oh man! How could I forget that?" Stiles face palmed before opening the door to the car to take out his bag and started walking back towards the house.

"I found a boat rental place that you could call." Stiles made a face while opening the door; of course, his father was on top of everything. Dropping the duffel by the door Stiles made a beeline for the bathroom.

"Hold on. I'm going to need some sunblock if I go on a boat." Stiles started shuffling through the bathroom in search of some sunblock and aloe, just in case. He walked back towards the front door listening to his father talk about which fish can be found near Baker Beach.

"Alright. Give me the number for the place." Stiles said after placing the aloe in the bag and the sunblock down near the bag. Pen in hand and paper up against the wall he jotted it down as the Sheriff said told him the number.

"It's the Raging Waves Rentals," Stiles scrunched his nose at the name.

"Okay. Got it." Stiles said folding the paper to fit it in his pocket. "Where is the fishing equipment again? The shed right?" Stiles moved towards the garage for easy access to the backyard.

"Yes they are in the shed, but they are near the right back corner leaning against the wall. The bait and tackle box should be right next to them. If it isn't then look in the garage by the work bench." His father instructed him.

"Thanks Dad. I'll text you when I get there." Stiles said as he approached the shed.

"Have fun. Keep me posted." With that, the line went dead with a click.

Stiles looked around for the poles, finally spotting them behind a tarp. He navigated his way to them grabbing two and looked down. The box was there like his father had said and stooped to pick it up. He made quick work of securing the locks on the shed and walked to the jeep. Opening the back, he placed the box then the poles with care. After closing the door he jogged back into the house, he grabbed the duffel and went through the door stopping to lock the dead bolt and bottom lock. He jumped into the driver's side placing the bag on the passenger seat. He started the car with one hand and closed the door with the other. He suppressed a smile as he reversed out onto the street. Shifting the car into drive, he felt the excitement of being able to go to the beach again. This time he did smile as he pulled onto the interstate.

* * *

By the time, Stiles reached the town it was near dusk. The sky was painted with deep purples and vibrant oranges. The town was quiet as he drove through it. Every few minutes he was able to see the water out the corner of his eye. He came upon a parking lot for beach visitors and parked. He quickly gets out of the jeep with a pair of trunks in his hands. Stiles found a bathroom not far from him. He sprints into it to change.

After he finished changing, he walked – barefoot – to the jeep. Tossing his clothes into the seat he unclips the jeep key and tucks it into the inside pocket of the trunks slamming the door. He charges for the sea. Just before his feet touch the water, he slows down. Testing the water with a foot, he yanks it back. It was colder than he thought. He eased himself into the water to give himself enough time to adjust to the water. After he was waist deep, he took a deep breath and dived. He lost track of time in the water. By the time he left the ocean, the stars had come out to decorate the sky. Stiles whistled low under his breath at the sight. He could see so many stars compared to Beacon Hills, it was always cloudy or there was too much light to see all of them. Not here.

Stiles was unaware of the two glowing orbs that followed his movements the moment he stepped foot out of the water. They were a bright blue peeking out from the rocks. Stiles started back towards the jeep a shiver running through him with every gust of wind. He pulled on his jacket when he got back into the car. Stiles drove off towards the inn where he booked a room. Surprisingly it was only a few minutes from the beach; he could walk to and from the beach from here. After checking in and getting his room key, he shoved open the door and shed his trunks and jacket. He collapsed on the bed pulling the covers around and promptly passed out.

* * *

Stiles awoke the next morning to his stomach protesting for food. He groaned as he sat up. The sheets were sticking to him and his skin felt tacky. He quickly showered washing off the salt from his skin. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he steps into bedroom to look for clothes. He grabs pair of checkered trunks and light blue t-shirt. Grabbing his wallet from his discarded pants, he slips on some flip-flops and walks out the door. He checks his phone for the time, 9:45 a.m. Stiles was surprised by how long he slept without interruptions. He walked to the front lobby to get some free breakfast. The other guests there looked tired and ready to go the beach, especially the kids who were darting around their parents who were gripping the mugs of coffee as if they were lifelines.

He chuckled to himself and poured himself coffee from the pot. He grabbed cream and sugar packets before ripping into them and pouring them into his mug, or plastic cup but a boy could dream. Taking one of the stirring straws, he looked around to figure out what he would eat from the small array of food. His eyes landed on oatmeal packets. They were stacked in a ceramic container. He found the cinnamon and sugar packet and smiled. He quickly opened the packet and added the hot water from the canister at the end of the counter. Nicking a spoon before heading over to a table to eat his breakfast. He devoured the oatmeal after stirring to make sure it was all cooked. He took his time with the coffee, relishing in caffeine coursing through his body. He opened his eyes quickly at a thought.

'Shit I forgot my medicine.' He mentally cursed himself and downed the rest of his coffee.

He walked back up to the counter to pour himself another cup. He was going to need all the caffeine if he wished to stay focused. (AN: I have ADD and I know for a fact that caffeine actually helps with focusing. Something to do with brain chemistry) Stiles went back to his table and mixed his coffee until it was a creamy brown. Gathering and throwing away his trash Stiles walked towards his room. He typed the rental place into his phone GPS and hopped into the car. It took him five minutes to navigate through the town and found the place his dad mentioned. It had a vintage look to it and seemed to be busy. He hoped that there was still boats left as he jumped out the car. The bell on the door rang causing the clerk to look up at him.

"What can I do for you?" The boy behind the counter asked cheerfully.

Stiles eyed the prices before answering. "I would like to rent a boat for half the day."

"What kind you want, sir?" The boy – Andrew according to his nametag – asked.

"What kind is left?" Stiles' eyes wandered around the shop as Andrew typed away looking through the database.

"We have a Champion 545i left." Stiles nodded. "That'll be $456.48." Stiles sucked in a breath through his teeth.

He reluctantly pulled out his wallet taking out his debit card, glad that his jeep has not broken down since the kanima incident. He then knocked three times on the wooden counter to counteract the jinx he put on himself. The clerk gave him a weird look as he scanned the card. He handed Stiles back the card and asked him to sign and verify on the screen in front of him. Stiles glanced at the clock as he did so it was half past 10.

"When does the boat need to be back?" Stiles wanted to know to set an alarm so he does not have to pay extra.

"By 5." Andrew ripped the receipt off the register and handed it to him. Turning to face the board behind him, he grabbed the keys for plot 34 and handed them to Stiles.

"The boats are round back you can either go through the back door over there-", he pointed to the glass door to Stiles' left, "-or through the gate if you need to grab things from your vehicle." Stiles nodded and turned to go through the exit, keys in hand.

Stiles grabbed his poles and tackle box from the back stuffing the receipt into his pocket along with the boat keys. He made the poles lean against the tires in order for him to close the back and lock it. He walked around the car and looked for the gate Andrew mentioned. He spotted it. It was an off-white color and about chest high. He unlatched it and, once he was through, closed it hearing the click that told him that it was closed. Stiles walked down the boardwalk towards the only boat left. It was white with two green stripes running down its sides. Stopping before the boat it had a box with a pen near the rope that secured it to the pier. The box was on a pole and was up to his shoulder. He opened it to find a sheet that wanted his name and number. Stiles guessed it was for emergency contact just in case something were to happen and to keep track of who has a particular boat.

It only took a couple of seconds to write out his name and untie the boat then he was on the boat and trying to navigate it out of the piers. While he was backing up and took note of the plot number that was painted on the side of the boardwalk. Once he was out, he started to pick up speed. He went out so far that the pier was only a speck in the distance. Deciding that it wasn't too far, Stiles set up his poles.

* * *

Stiles woke with a jolt when something cold hit his cheek. He sprung up from his seated position and scrambled to find his phone to check the time. In trying to avoid stepping on a pole and breaking it he tripped and hit his head against the side of the boat. Rubbing his head with one hand, he placed the fishing poles on the seat. He looked up when another drop hit him on the shoulder. The once blue clear sky was now covered in clouds. He grabbed the t-shirt he had discarded after an hour of fishing. Finally finding his phone next to the driver seat he looks at the time it was 3:30 p.m. He breathed a sigh of relief and started looking for the rental's port. Stiles barely saw it. Realizing that he must have drifted while he was sleeping, he sits in the seat to drive. One the way back Stiles starts to wonder what his friends in Beacon Hills are doing. Giving into curiosity, he calls Scott. Scott picks up on the first ring.

"Stiles? Your dad said that you went to the beach?"

"Yeah. I figured I needed some time to relax – away from Beacon Hills. After what I-" Scott interrupts him.

"I get it. Just a little heads up next time."

"It was sorta a last minute thing." Scott laughed.

"Now that sounds like something you would do. What are you doing at the beach? I hear a motor and wind, you on a boat?" Stiles swears he could hear the tilt of Scott's head like a dogs through the phone at trying to figure out what Stiles was doing.

"Ye-up," emphasizing the 'P'. "I rented one to go fishing, but somehow fell asleep." Another laugh.

"Were you wearing anything?"

"Scott I thought you didn't view me in that way." Stiles joked.

Scott started to sputter. "I-I…what?...No…" – he sighed – "I meant did you put on sunblock or were you wearing a shirt 'cause you get burned so easily." Stiles could feel his ears turning red.

"I put on sunblock!" Stiles fiercely stated when he heard his best friend's laughs through the phone. Then his brain kicked in.

"Shit." He huffed.

"What?" Scott said in between laughs.

"I forgot it."

"Forgot what? The sunblock?" Scott sounded pained as if he was trying to hold something back.

"Yes! I _knew_ I forgot something!" Stiles hit himself on the head with his hand, wincing when he hit the spot from earlier.

"Did you take any Adderall today?"

"No, Dad, I didn't." Stiles mocked. "I was writing down the number for the boat place that Dad suggested. He said you better rent a boat 'cause you get the best fish if you catch them yourself. I had it in my hand, but I put it down to jot it down-" Stiles was speaking quickly.

"Stiles."

"-is why you don't distract Stiles. You distract Stiles then Stiles forgets things. A forgetful Stiles gets burned, heh burned. I wanted to go swimming tomorrow! I ca-"

"STILES." Scott practically yelled to get his friend's attention.

"What Scott?" Stiles snapped.

"Breathe. Normal people breathe in between sentences."

Stiles scoffed. "Like you can talk, Mr. Alpha Werewolf."

"You were rambling. Stop by a convenience store, they probably have Aloe. If you treat it quickly enough, you will be able to swim tomorrow. Just enjoy your vacation. I'll call you if anything happens here." Scott promised.

Stiles took a deep breath and released it before answering.

"Okay, Scott. Hey. I will only be a few more days then we can go look for Derek. Take this time to relax yourself." Stiles told him.

"I will. Bye."

"Bye." Stiles mumbled before locking the phone and putting it into his pocket.

He drove in silence listening to the few raindrops hitting the water and the hum of the motor. Thirty minutes later, he pulled up to plot 34. He shut off the motor and retied the rope around the hook. He secured his hooks on his poles, grabbed the box along with the poles, stepped off the boat, and jogged back up to the store. He entered the store and Andrew looked up from his spot from behind the counter. He placed the magazine down and out the way. Stiles walked up to the counter and placed the keys down. Andrew smiled at him picking them up.

"It looks like you got some sun today." Shocked and embarrassed, Stiles replied with a terse Yes and left out through the front door.

The bell jingling to announce his departure. He briskly walked to his Jeep. Throwing open the back door he shoved the fishing equipment into the car. He was mindful of the poles when closing the door. Hopping into the front, he started the vehicle and whipped out of the parking lot.

He pulled up to his motel room and dragged himself out the car to the door. He slung the box over his shoulder, wincing slightly at the discomfort from the fabric rubbing against his skin. He opened the door dropping the box by the air conditioner. Once the door was closed, he carefully peeled off the light blue tee to do a full damage report. He kicked his flip-flops off on his journey to the bathroom. Flipping the light on he turned to look at himself in the mirror. Now he wasn't what he would call buff, but he did have some muscles, years of lacrosse will do that to a person even if he did sit on the bench most of the time. His torso was slightly red indicating a sunburn. Silently praying during his walk back to the duffel at the end of the bed that he would find the Aloe in his bag. He shouted when he found that he did indeed pack it. Suppressing the urge to kiss the bottle he ran back to the bathroom.

'Thank God! I want to be able to enjoy the beach for a little while longer' he thought as he started spreading the Aloe onto his skin. The aloe was cold against his skin shocking him at first, but soon found it soothing. When he finished putting on the last of it thankful of how flexible his arms were, he let the Aloe soak into his skin. He clasped his hands together in mock prayer hoping that he didn't burn but instead a tan.

He stripped off the trunks, placing them back into his bag and pulling out a pair of boxers – Batman, naturally – and slipped them on. Digging through the duffel for his phone charger, he looked outside it was dark; the rain had begun to pour. He found his charger and plugged both his phone and it in. He placed it on the nightstand that was on the right of the bed and sat down. He stared at the world outside his window. After a while, his eyes began to droop, taking that as his cue he got up and closed the blinds. Before laying down on the bed, Stiles checked to make sure that his Aloe was dry and that the door was locked. He plopped down on the bed, snuggling into the sheets. He fell asleep listening to the steady sound of the rainfall.

* * *

Stiles woke up to being forcibly dragged form the bed. He tried to fight back making his arms flail about causing his assailant to catch them easily. He twisted his body to see his attacker. What he saw made his blood run cold. Two glowing gold eyes were staring back at him and there was a low growling.

"Shit!" The sudden outburst caused the man – Stiles assumed it was a man – to loosen his grip on one of Stiles' hands. Stiles jerked out of his grip and tried to reach for his phone, which was still connected to the charger. The hand came back, rougher this time, and gripped his wrist bending Stiles' hand backwards. He yelped and soon found a hand in vice like grip around his neck. Stiles' hands flew to pry the hand away in order to prevent the further crushing of his windpipe. The more he struggled, kicking the shins, pulling at the hand, and hitting their arms, the tighter the grip got until Stiles started to feel lightheaded. He gasped a few more times trying to get the much-needed oxygen to his lungs.

"..we got him, sir." Were the last words before he passed out, lost to the world.

* * *

Stiles awoke to being strapped to a chair. He started to groan but started to cough not fully recovered from the attack. He immediately shut his eyes after opening them. The pain that shot through them too much. He slowly opened them this time. Fear crept into his being when the events of yesterday, if the light was anything to go by, rushed through his mind. He looked down pleading-

'Please let me be clothed'

He sighed in relief when not only was he wearing his boxers, but he was sporting tattered gray sweat pants too. He looked around to figure out where he was. He only saw the insides of a rundown industrial basement. The sun light was leaking through holes in the ceiling where panels should be. There was exposed pipes, wires and beams everywhere he looked. The whole place had a coat of both rust and dust covering the place. The ground at his feet was littered with trash and dirt. He tested his bindings to find that he was zip tyed and duct taped to the chair. The cold of the metal that was touching his back gave him some relief to the itch that had invaded his skin. Trying to get a better view, he craned his neck and moved his shoulders only to nearly bit his tongue in order to stifle a scream.

'Dammit. Sunburn! Looks like the Aloe last night did not help it'

He closed his eyes and decided that he might as well try to find out who had kidnapped-was it kidnapping if he wasn't a kid?-abducted, abducted him. He planned on annoying them so much that they show their faces to shut him up. He called out-

"Hello? Anybody there? If you wanted to talk you could've asked nicely and I would've complied, but now I'm not so sure because taking someone and tying them to a chair is a good way to get someone to comply." Sarcasm was dripping from his voice. "Metal? Smart thinking. Although, I wanted to try that move I saw Natasha do in the Avengers movie. I am assuming you seen it considering its metal and not wood. I am not too sure if it would work though because I don't have ridiculous werewolf strength-" something shuffled. "-and probably would've ended sideways on the floor, with numerous bruises. Speaking of floors, this one needs to be cleaned. When was the last time it was cleaned it looks as if some major disease could be living on it. If you need a maid I'm sure that there is one you could c-"

"For someone in your situation you sure do talk a lot." Stiles jumped at the sudden voice. It came from the side. Twisting his head he saw a man – a quite muscular one at that, maybe even more so than Derek – leaning against a beam.

"I have no brain to mouth filter. It's a curse really, but you would know..." Stiles lowered his voice. He flicked his eyes back towards the man after scanning the room. 'There has got to be more than one, now all I need to know is where.' Stiles thought. Even with the knowledge, he could not do anything about his current predicament. The man's eyes flashed gold.

"Personally, I think it is more of a blessing than a curse." The man sneered and moved closer to Stiles.

"Which begs the question why hasn't your Alpha given you the bite? I mean being a human in a wolf pack must make them vulnerable." The comment hit Stiles at his core. Bristling, Stiles glared at the man who just laughed.

"Now. Now. We only want information." The man crossed his arms, the black shirt he was wearing looking as if it was painted on.

"Information on what?" As soon as the question left, his mouth Stiles regretted it. The man smirked.

"Information on the pack of one True Alpha, I believe his name was McCall." Stiles stopped breathing and sat straighter at his friend's name. This did not go unnoticed by his captor.

"Oh, ho. So you ARE familiar with his pack. We figured you were since you reeked of wolves when you arrived and his is the only one this close to us." Stiles shivered at the tone the man was using.

"Now be a dear and answer this: How many are there in his pack?" Stiles stilled thinking about all the pack members they had lost because of him.

"Anytime now." That snapped him back to reality and from those dark thoughts.

"Fuck you. I won't tell you about my pack" Stiles spat out, not wanting to be the reason even more die. This earned a laugh from the man.

"Don't be like that. You are a human, not a wolf. You can't be a part of a pack," The man growled out the last bit.

"Now tell me." The man had moved a few feet closer.

"Again. Fuck you. In the ass with wolfs bane." Stiles tried to put all of his hatred into his stare. The man's eyes flickered to gold and was upon Stiles in a second. Stiles hissed when he felt claws go across his face.

"I asked you nicely. Twice. Now I'm going to ask once more before my Alpha gets here. And trust me when I say this-" his hand gripped Stiles' shoulder. Stiles bit his tongue to keep from yelling. "-she don't take no for answer. How many?" The grip tightened and Stiles squeezed his eyes shut.

"I don't think I want to t-" Stiles was silenced with a swift jab to the ribs. Screaming when he felt something give. The man stepped back. Stiles coughed and doubled over, as much as he could with the restraints.

"Piece of shit." The man growled. Stiles looked back up at him, panting. He raises his fist again and started swinging when he was stopped by-

"Jacob. No. You have done enough. I will deal with it from here." A woman appeared on the stairs.

Jacob grumbled but backed away to lean back onto the pillar from before. The woman was tall, pale with dirty blonde hair and oozed power. Her hair was set in curls. She was wearing a white tank, black leggings and brown riding boots. All this with a leather jacket.

'Must be a required of a werewolf' Stiles thought as he rolled his eyes. The woman walked down the stairs towards Stiles.

"My name is Melissa. Now it's only customary to give me yours." She demanded while her eyes flashed red.

"Oh you're the Alpha. Since you _demanded_ so nicely. It's Stiles" Stiles ground out.

"What the hell is a Stiles?" Jacob scoffed.

"It's my name, wolf boy" Stiles shot back.

Jacob growled and stepped forward. The two eyes were locked, trying to stare the other down.

"Jacob" Melissa warned. Jacob looked away and Stiles found some joy in the older male looking away first.

"Now Stiles. Jacob was asking you earlier how big McCall's – no your – pack?" Her voice was sickly sweet and she leaned in until her face was just inches from his. He spat in her face. She recoiled and started shifting due to her anger.

'Bad move, Stilinski' Stiles chide himself.

"I rather die than sell out my friends." Stiles held his chin higher. She lunged at him she dug her nails into his thighs, nicking the bones.

"That can be arranged" She sneered around her fangs. Stiles screamed until his throat was raw.

* * *

After many hours, Melissa gave up when Stiles passed out from his blood loss. She got up and the little sunlight left showed her physique. Her once white tank was stained crimson. She wiped her hands on her leggings, she glanced the boy in the chair. Stiles was heavily breathing in his sleep and his skin was stained red, glistening from the blood running from his wounds. Melissa walked over to Jacob who was now sitting on the chair near a bag with clothes. He had left hours ago to procure it from their main house. She stripped out of the bloodied tank and threw it down onto the ground. He tossed her a wet towel, which she then started cleaning off her arms. They swapped items once her torso was clean. He tossed her a new shirt and she tossed back the towel.

"I'm surprised that it lasted this long. All the others died before now," he admitted standing up.

"He was stubborn. The McCall pack has a good human bitch, or rather _had._" She pulled her jacket back on.

"He has no use to us since he refused to cooperate and spill any pack secrets," she snarled.

"So how are we going to kill him?"

"Well first we take his memories because of those damn **things**," She said while motioning with her hands in the direction of the sea.

"Hopefully they won't take an interest in him," she said.

"Why don't we just leave him on the side of the road or something?" Jacob suggested as if it was obvious.

Melissa snapped at him, "Because in the sea there is a chance the sharks will get him before they do. In addition, even if they did find him, the seawater will wash away our scents. And if his pack caught wind of us before we strike they will kill us." She elongated her claws on her way back to Stiles. She stalked around behind Stiles and stabbed him in the neck. Stiles' head snapped back up and his eyes opened, his mouth open in a silent scream. His face contorted in pain. After a few minutes, she pulled out and his head drooped again.

"I see why he calls himself Stiles." She flicked the blood from her nails.

"Wait if you could figure that out from doing that then why couldn't we do that at the start?" Jacob's dark eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

"Only some things come with the take of memories. I only got his name and nothing else. Remember this Jacob When taking one's memories you have to take what makes the person themselves. I.e. a name, feelings, anything the person feels that is them." She paused looking from Stiles to Jacob. Her teeth showing when she smirked. "And I love to torture people so."

"Cut him free so we can go" She demanded walking towards the front.

Jacob obeyed and slashed through the bindings with his claws. Throwing Stiles over his shoulder, he followed her out the door. When they reached the beach after a short run, Stiles' blood had soaked through Jacob's jacket.

"Do you want me to do it or…" Jacob shut his mouth when he saw her look. Her eyes flashed red.

"I'll do it because I'm the Alpha and stronger. The further I throw him out, the better."

Jacob gave Stiles to her and she hefted him above her head. She got into position and threw him as if he weighed no more than a tennis ball rather than a teenage boy.

"Good riddance" Jacob muttered as he watched Stiles' body fly through the air and finally drop into the sea.

* * *

Stiles came to with his whole body aching. The ceiling he saw when opening his eyes was unfamiliar and panic washed through him. Not knowing where he was, he bolted upright only to be pushed back down by a firm hand.

"Whoa there take it easy," A man gently said.

"Wh-What am I doing here?" Stiles asked as he studied the man before him.

He was tan and didn't look to be much older than 17. His hair was brown with almost copper highlights from the sun light streaming through from his right. It was short and spiked up in the front. He was wearing a white shirt unbuttoned showing his torso. Stiles eyes drifted lower, sizing up the man in front of him trying to figure out if he could get away if need be. He was wearing lime green trunks with a white stripe down the side. Stiles looked up at him in confusion.

"Who are you? Why am I here?" Stiles asked staring at the ceiling not blinking.

"Well I can answer the first question for ya. I'm Trevor. Trevor Abram. And I brought you to my house after I found you passed out on the beach. However, if you are asking why you are in this town, that's your business not mine. Now what's your name?" Trevor asked as he walked around the couch and to the kitchen for water. It was for both him and the stranger on his sofa.

"I don't know." It was barely a whisper, but Trevor caught it.

"What?" He asked appearing in the doorway that connected the kitchen and living room. He was staring at the boy on his couch in concern.

"What do you mean you don't know? Do you not know your name or why you're here?"

"Neither." Stiles sighed. "but-" Trevor's head snapped back to him.

"I remember Stiles."

"What is a Stiles? Is it a person? Or a place?" Trevor walked back around the sofa to look at the boy. The whiskey colored eyes he met were lost and scared.

"I don't know," he whispered looking down. Trevor placed a hand of his guest's shoulder. He could see the tears building in his eyes. A lone tear slipped out while he spoke the next words-

"I don't remember _anything_."

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**AN: Going through this I realize I like to start a scene with Stiles waking up. I think its only this chapter that its repeated so much. So how about that cliffhanger? **

**As always reviews are welcome. **

**Until next Friday. Bluetears out~**


	3. Chapter 2: Broken Pieces

**AN: Well this is later than I thought but I fell asleep while typing. This chapter is shorter than chapter 1 because if I combined this with the next scene it would be extremely long and then ruin my written chapter system. Anyways don't hate me too much for what happens. Thank you to those that reviewed: Shadow-wolf78 and Jamesk19. Thank you to those that followed/favorited: , MistSpade, GaiaMarty21, Lea97, Put It Up To Eleven, Shadow-wolf78, and Jamesk19. You guys are the greatest. This chapter has some foul language. This chapter has 3.1K words excluding author notes, since this chapter is lacking I'll make the next one around 7-8K words. How about that? Now without further ado Chapter 2: Broken Pieces**

**~Warning~**

**Not beta'd. You can't say I didn't tell ya.**

**Disclaimer: oh the things I would do if I owned Teen Wolf...Stydia js**

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Chapter 2: Broken Pieces

Trevor carefully sat down on the couch next to the boy so that he did not jostle him, which would cause him pain. He looked broken both physically and mentally. Physically he looked as if he went through a paper shredder before the bandages. Trevor could count on one hand how many unmarred patches of skin showed through the bandages on his arms and torso. The boy had fully reclined back on to the couch, his head propped up by the throw pillow underneath. His eyes were closed to try to prevent any more tears from slipping past. Trevor watched as the boy regained a pattern of normalcy to his breathing. The boy's right forearm had come to rest over his eyes.

"Hey." This caused the arm to move from atop of his eyes to his forehead. Wet eyes stared back up at him and his face had become red from unshed tears.

"You know I can't keep on referring to you as boy." Trevor stood as he spoke.

"I don't know what you can call me." The boy turned himself so his back was touching the back of the couch. The process was slow and looked painful if Trevor could tell from his face.

"Well I could call you...-", He paused for a moment his eyes darting towards the wall of photos by the door, "-...Farren." Trevor said the name hesitantly. Trevor caught the look that the boy was giving him and backpedaled.

"It's old English for wanderer or adventurous. If you do not like it, we could think of something else. I just thought since I found you near a beach and that must've meant you came here for an adventure." Trevor's voiced had faded to above a whisper by the end of the sentence. The boy looked up at him with an eyebrow arched, his head supported by a hand underneath the throw pillow that his cheeked rested on.

"I mean you kinda look like a Farren. Well not an exact Farren, but you could pull it off." Trevor rubbed the back of his neck and walked around to lean on the armrest by the boy's feet.

Trevor was mulling over his thoughts listening to the boy moving on the couch. The rustling of clothes did not stop after a couple seconds causing Trevor to snap his head to the boy to reprimand him. The words caught in his throat when he saw the boy sitting Indian style on his cushions and staring at him.

"I really appreciate it, man. I mean you found me on the beach, I could've been a criminal but you took me into your house and dressed my wounds. Now you are offering me a name. I don't think I could ever repay you for your generosity. So I'll take the name." The boy – no, Farren – said before giving Trevor a huge grin. As much as Farren tried to hide it, Trevor could see the pain in his eyes from the smile pulling at the gashes running across his left cheek.

Trevor eyed him before responding.

"Okay man. Well I don't know about you but _I'm_ starving." Trevor rose from his perch on the armrest and walked around the back of the couch to the archway that connected the kitchen to the living room.

"Yeah. I am thanks." Farren slowly got up from the couch. Admittedly, he had to use the side of the armrest for balance while he got his footing. He was wobbly from the pain that shot from his thighs to his feet and back up again. He stood straight and leaned heavily on the couch as he shuffled towards the kitchen.

It was a quant kitchen. The counters a cream colored granite with steel appliances and a sand colored tile floor. Trevor was riffling through the fridge for food. Farren walked two steps to the right and leaned against the countertop there. He watched as Trevor pulled out ingredient after ingredient, piling them into his arms. Farren concluded that Trevor wanted to make sandwiches, to which Farren understood, he wasn't expecting a full course meal after only knowing the guy for ten minutes. When Trevor turned around spotting Farren, he jumped almost dropping the food stacked precariously in his arms.

"Jesus, dude. Speak up. You almost gave me a heart attack." Trevor gasped out while closing the fridge with his shoulder.

"Sorry." Farren mumbled.

"I'll try to walk like an elephant next time." Farren was failing at trying to keep a serious face. The corners of his mouth started twitching up into a smirk when Farren saw the dark look Trevor gave him over his shoulder. Trevor place the ingredients on the counter.

"Ass." Trevor hissed out turning back towards organizing the food. Trevor reached into the cabinets and grabbed a plate for the both of them.

"And how are you even walking around? Your leg muscles were shredded!" Trevor dug through the drawer by his hip and grabbed a butter knife, which he waved at Farren. Trevor caught the confusion on Farren's face and switched subjects.

"Anyhow, since you're up and about you can make your own sandwich. I ain't your servant."

Farren laughed and limped forward to Trevor. He handed Farren a butter knife and plate. They both made their sandwiches in silence until a knock at the door broke it. Trevor sighed.

"I got this just continue and if you finish making it before I get back you can eat without me. It should only take a minute."

Trevor left the kitchen and walked to the front door. The door was to the left of the TV which was a flat screen pushed up against the wall. Farren blocked out their conversation, thinking it rude to eavesdrop, and focused on making his sandwich. He stared at the condiments wondering which ones he would normally like on his sandwich. Farren had already placed the meat and cheese on the bread. Farren had deemed it necessary to taste them before deciding to put mustard, mayonnaise and ketchup on the sandwich. Farren's mouth watered as he stared at his creation and his stomach voiced its approval of it. He picked it up gingerly but before he could take a bite, he heard yelling.

"It's them! They did this. We have to stop them!" Farren recognized the owner of the voice to be Trevor.

An unknown voice responded calmly: "We don't have enough people. Our clansmen have all scattered to the four corners. In some, the blood is so diluted, they don't know nor can they use it. Taking action against them could cause a war. We can't afford to lose anymore." The voice sounded exhausted.

"But…This is the fourth one! This month! The others didn't live this far but him. He's different.-" Farren winced as if the comment had hit him. "-He's already healing. W-" Trevor sounded angry, desperate even.

"If he's healing then he's turning. Becoming a part of their Pack." The man spit out the last word.

Farren felt horrible for listening in for so long. He went into the dining room, which was accessible by the door to the right of the refrigerator. The dining room was bright with the rays from the sun pouring in from the bay windows that provided Farren a view of the ocean. Farren gasped at the view. He could see for miles in the ocean and tell that the house was situated on a cliff. The water was glistening from the sunlight and the sight left him in awe. Farren placed the sandwich on the table and walked closer to the windows mainly to get farther away from the argument happening in the living room and for a better view. Farren dragged a chair to the edge of the windows grabbing his sandwich and took a huge chunk of it as he sat down. As he chewed, he listened to the waves crashing against the cliff-face. After a few minutes, Farren heard the door slam shut and he could feel Trevor's footsteps though the house.

Farren waited until he finished the majority of his sandwich before deeming it appropriate to walk into the kitchen. He was met with the sight of an angry Trevor cutting the head of lettuce with much more force than needed. Trevor had a look of concentrated anger on his face and Farren made sure that he wasn't in the range when he asked-

"What did the lettuce do to you, besides being tasteless, for you to mutilate it?" Farren smiled to himself seeing Trevor jump. Luckily, there was no loss of apendages from this joke.

"Shit! You're like a ninja!" Trevor exhaled while placing one hand over his heart and the other placed the knife on the counter.

"So. Everything okay?" Farren asked while placing the uneaten portion of his sandwich by the sink.

"Yeah just..." Trevor sighed, the tension leaving his shoulders. "..don't worry about it." Trevor told him while he put away the leftover sandwich contents. Trevor placed his plate on the bar, which was situated behind the sink. Farren watched as Trevor pulled himself up onto a stool. Farren waited until Trevor had finished chewing three bites before asking.

"Okay. So where's the trashcan or..." Farren indicated to small portion of food on his plate.

"Behind you in the corner by the glass door. Napkins are located right here." Trevor pointed to his left with his thumb before tearing a huge chunk of the sandwich off. Farren reached over the counter and grabbed a few napkins.

"Thanks." Farren breathed as he shuffled towards the silver trash can. He noticed the view from the back porch that the glass door opens to when he was wiping his hands off. He placed the ceramic plate on the top of the small wooden table.

"Can I just say that your view is awesome? I don't think I've ever seen anything like it even in my non-existent memories." Farren placed one hand on the door's glass.

Farren walked back to the sink where he rinsed and placed the plate. Trevor mumbled thanks handing his plate to Farren, who washed and placed it on top of his plate. Trevor hopped down from the stool and walked the short distance to the couch. He shoved the towels off the couch that Farren had been sleeping on. He put them on the floor and slouched into the couch turning on the TV. Farren walked from behind the bar and into the living room to partake in watching the program. Farren leaned against the back of the couch leaning on his arms. He shifted his position and caught a whiff of himself. Scrunching his nose at the metallic smell of blood and the stench of must from sweat.

"Hey. Do you think I could borrow your shower?" Farren shifted causing the leather couch to squeak and Trevor tilt his head showing that he was listening even though his eyes stayed glued to the TV. The show was about these two brothers robbing banks and killing snake people. Farren's eyes glanced back the TV and winced at the bad graphics, whose blood is pink?

"I mean I reek and even I can smell myself which is a big deal considering people can't smell their own odors. Or I don't have to. It's cool if you say no because you don't know me and I have been leaching of you and your hospitality. You gave me food and cleaned my wounds. That just gave me a thought maybe I sh-should go to the hospital then I'll be out of your hair. They could get me care and help me find my family. Just point me in t-"

"FARREN" Trevor half-yelled. Farren finally looked down to see his host's face full of concern. Trevor must have been calling his 'name' for some time for him to yell it. Farren's face started to feel hot from embarrassment of being caught rambling.

"Seriously, you need to breathe in between sentences." This caused Farren's face to burn even more. He stared pointed at the screen so he could not see Trevor's face.

"Yes. You can borrow the shower. Here follow me." Trevor rose from the couch and led Farren to the guest bedroom that was around ten feet away from the front door.

Trevor opened the door and crossed the room quickly. Farren arrived at the door to see Trevor opening the dresser on the other side the room. Trevor threw clothes to Farren over his shoulder. Farren was caught off guard when the first article of clothing, a pair of clean pants, had come flying at him and almost dropped them on the floor. Farren was ready for the next two pieces, a pair of boxers and a cotton t-shirt. Farren fumbled with the clothing when trying to catch and keep them from falling. He heard a release of air from the side of the room that sounded like a laugh and glanced up to see Trevor grinning at him while leaning on the dresser. Farren leveled him a look. Trevor motioned to Farren's left.

"There is the bathroom." The door he pointed to was slightly ajar letting Farren see that it was actually bigger than what he originally thought.

"For the time being, you stay in here. This is the bathroom." Trevor walked over to the door. "Upstairs is where I stay. Towels are in the cabinet under the sink and there is soap and shampoo located in the cabinet to your right as soon as you walk in. Take the bandages off because they are a day old and we wouldn't want them to become infected. There are more bandages and cleansing ointments on the shelf above the soap. If I were you I would be gentle when cleaning your wounds because they look like they'll hurt like a bitch." With that, Trevor slipped past Farren and went back to his original position on the couch. Farren looked between Trevor who had grabbed the remote and began channel surfing, and the slightly open bathroom door.

Farren closed the door with his foot and walked towards the bathroom door while shifting the clothes into one hand. He pushed open the door with his free hand. He was met with a bathroom that looked like it belonged in a fancy hotel. The walls were two toned, burgundy on top and gray tile on the bottom with a carved white wood stripe separating the two. The floors were white tile and the counters were a black granite situated on bleached wood decorated with black hinges. Farren hesitantly stepped into the bathroom closing the door behind him. He walked over to the counter placing the clean clothes on the counter. He stared at his reflection in the mirror following the trail of bandages that went under the waistband of his pants. He stripped off the torn sweat pants letting them drop to the floor.

He stared at himself in the mirror, his real skin was only visible in very small sections scattered around his torso. The blood on that had seeped through had become so dark it looked black and Farren's wandered down stopping at the sight of blood on his Batman boxers. Farren furrowed his eyebrows trying to chase down the rest of the thought to see if he could find out more about himself. It was as if someone took his knowledge of himself but left the everyday things like language, motor functions, and even some pop culture. He soon peeled those off too. He breathed a sigh of relief to see that his family jewels were unharmed. The next step he did was to turn on the shower – it took him longer than he expected but he eventually figured it out. While the water warmed up, he set to the task of taking the dressings off.

'This'll hurt like a motherfucker, but it needs to be done.' Farren thought as he braced himself. He gripped the top of the biggest bandage on his chest. He didn't want to use too much force to avoid opening them back up. He squeezed his eyes shut and grunted as he slowly peeled the thing off. The only sound was the tape peeling itself from flesh Farren was holding his breath. It was released when the bandage was limp in his hand. He opened his eyes one at a time to look at the wound. It stretched from his left shoulder to his right pectoral ending underneath his armpit on his side. Even though it looked deep, it had already scabbed over with a few places weeping from the taking off the gauze. The scratches on his left cheek stood out against his skin. There was four jagged lines running from his cheek bone to the edge of his mouth. He made quick work of the tightly wrapped bandages around his center. He winced slightly when they were removed; he assumed that his ribs were bruised. Next were his arms and lastly his legs.

He stared at himself for a few second until he saw the mirror fog up. He realized that the shower was on and guessing from the steam curling out of it the water was hot. He took one last look at his shredded skin before stepping into the shower hissing at the contact of water on his wounds. He scrambled to turn the water down after setting the shampoo on the rack; he wanted to be clean not get burns on the unharmed skin. He gently washed around the wounds trying not to remove the scabs from them fearing that it will prolong the healing process. Farren massaged the green apple shampoo into his hair and scalp mindful of the slashes on his back and chest. Farren yelped when he felt something on his neck sting. He reached back and wiped the shampoo off his neck. He pulled his hand back surprised to see the bubbles red.

'That is another to add to the growing list' Farren thought darkly as washed it out of his hair.

After maneuvering through his shower and not adding any new wounds to himself, he stepped out and onto the mat. He let himself dry a little allowing the wounds to close before grabbing a towel and lightly patting himself dry. He slipped on the gray boxers when he felt dry enough. Farren was about to put on the rest of the clothes when he remembered his predicament. He would need help to redress his wounds. Guilt bubbling up in his chest for having to ask Trevor for even more help. However, Farren pushed it down and called out for him.

* * *

**AN: This chapter was just a big chunk of text. I couldn't split it anywhere. I didn't want to go into that much detail of his wounds because his body was literally littered with them. Any way next chapter you see the rest of the gang. YAY. **

**Until next Friday. Bluetears out~**


	4. Chapter 3: Gone

**Oh my god. Plz don't kill me. I am so terribly sorry that this is so late. On Friday I had half of the chapter written but then I went to a game and got back late. Fell asleep while writing. Then on Saturday had the SAT til 1:30. Volunteered at the fair from 4-9. Got home late, re-read what I wrote down then re-wrote it. Had to fill out college applications but instead have been writing this every time the mother unit leaves. Any way I just want to clear up a few things before moving onto the story. This won't be a slash fic so Stiles isn't paired with any male characters canon or of my own creation. And to make up for this being late I'll post two chapters on Friday. Now enough of excuses, you want the story. It's around 8 pages on Word.**

**Warning: not beta'd**

**Disclaimer- oh the things I'd do if I owned Teen Wolf. nor do I own Shakespeare.**

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Chapter 3: Gone

Scott had started pacing his room after waking up from a dream. He tried to remember what caused him to wake up but all he could remember was hearing screams and the tearing of flesh. He involuntarily shivered at the memory, but it wasn't he who was the one in pain. It was as if he was sent those images through a mental link. A frown marred Scott's face as he began to pick up the speed of his pacing. Scott glanced out at his window the sky was beginning to become lighter making the stars less visible. Kira was perched on the side of his bed and quietly watched him worry showing on her features.

"Scott," Kira whispered. "Any more and you'll have a hole in your floor." Her voice was hushed to make sure that they didn't wake up his mother. Both were glad for his werewolf hearing, his mother was a light sleeper.

Scott looked at her as he stopped moving. He proceeded to the chair adjacent to his bed and sat down. He leaned back against it resting his head on the back. His neck and the underside of his chin were the only things visible to her.

"Scott. Are you going to tell me why you bolted upright?" Kira spoke softly while readjusting herself on the bed so she was looking at him, well his chin.

"I just-" He sighed. "-It felt like I was watching someone being hurt, tortured even. I can't figure out why I saw those images or who was in them. Derek could tell me but hey look who has gone and disappeared without even telling one member of the Pack." Scott scoffed and moved his hand to rub his eyes. He then tilted his head towards her. His brown eyes were filled with worry.

"Scott. Maybe it was a part of your dream?" She moved so she was directly across from him. "You're worried over nothing." Kira placed a hand on his knee slightly squeezing it.

"But..." He was cut off with a look from her.

"How about we contact the Pack in the morning if the feeling still lingers. If someone is hurt then we will all need a good night's sleep."

Sighing in defeat, Scott rose up from his spot on the chair and took up his previous position on the bed.

"Fine." Scott grumbled into his pillow. Kira gave him a concerned look before shifting to lay down next to him.

'I hope that no one it hurt. Not so soon after everything.' Kira thought before succumbing to sleep's allure once again.

Scott watched as her breathing evened out and her heartbeat slowed. He tilted his head so that he could clearly look through his window at the night sky. The moon was what drew his attention.

'Five days until the next full moon,' Scott assured himself before fully relaxing into his bed. The last thing he saw was the near full moon staring back at him.

* * *

Scott woke to the sounds of his mother getting ready for work a few hours later. Groaning, he pushed himself up; Scott tried to look out his window but was prevented by a sharp pain in his neck.

'I knew I shouldn't have fallen asleep like that. Now I'll have a crick in my neck for a while.'

Scott stretched and rubbed his neck trying to work it out hoping that by massaging the muscles he'll almost have a full range of motion. He swung his legs down off the bed and carefully stood up. He had seen Kira sleeping deeply next to him and did not want to be the reason she was awake again. Scott padded towards the bathroom and slowly pulled the door closed cringing when the hinges and wood creaked. He quickly looked back at Kira and saw that she had barely twitched at the sound. He had taken care of his necessities and moved on to brushing his teeth when he heard Kira's heart beat pick up signaling she was waking. By the time he was finished and walked out of the bathroom, she was upright in his bed and rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

His gaze shifted to look at the clock on his desk by his door. It flashed 8:09 a.m. in red letters. He figured that they only got a couple of hours of sleep after his episode. He groaned at both the early time and the lack of sleep. Scott set on the task of locating his phone to distract him from concentrating solely on the feeling that was still there in the pit of his stomach. Although it had diminished since its first arrival this morning. He found his phone on his desk next to the lamp where he had left it the night before to charge. Scott scrolled through his contacts until he found Lydia. He sent her a message knowing that Lydia and Malia were still at Lydia's house.

'My house 9.'

After making sure it had sent, Scott locked his phone and placed it back down on the desk. He walked back over to his bed. Kira had finished stretching and had shaken the drowsiness off when she asked, "Is the bathroom open?"

"Yeah. The extra towels are in there already." Scott told her as he grabbed a book off the stack near the chair and sat down.

She grabbed her pack that was at the end of the bed and walked into the bathroom. He tuned out after he heard the lock click into place. Scott had become lost to the world as he was dragged into the fictional world of A Midsummer Night's Dream by William Shakespeare. He had picked up the habit over the summer to catch up on schoolwork and had found that he enjoyed reading in his spare time. He loved the small escape that it provided from his normally hectic life and in the past few months, it had been difficult to find the time to pick up a novel. He read until Kira had reemerged from the bathroom in a new change of clothes and hair wrapped up in a towel.

"Is the feeling still there?" Kira asked as she dropped the pack onto the ground and Scott set down the book.

"Yeah, but it's less prominent now." Scott sighed as he stood up from the chair. He walked to the door turning around to look at her he asked, "So before everyone gets here do you want breakfast?" Scott opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. Kira followed shortly.

They both had finished eating their cereals by the time Lydia had arrived at his house. It was 9 o'clock on the dot and she was looking as pristine as ever. She was hauling an exhausted Malia with her to the front door. Scott began putting away the boxes of cereal as Kira opened the door to let the two into the house. He was washing the dirty dishes while Kira started talking to Lydia about their holiday break plans. Malia had slinked over to him after the trio arrived into the kitchen. He was wiping his hands off when Malia asked where the coffee maker was. Scott figured that coffee wouldn't be such a bad idea and decided that he was going to work it just in case because the last time ended with the coffee being too burnt. He told her to go sit down at the kitchen table while he made up the coffee. He watched her slowly make her way to the table and collapse into the chair only offering an opinion if she was asked.

While waiting for the coffee to brew, he pulled out two mugs from the cabinets. He walked over to the table and set down the sugar and a spoon to dish it out. He heard the coffee start to trickle into the pot and pulled out the creamer from the refrigerator. Scott placed the creamer down by the sugar and only Kira briefly glanced at him clearly engrossed with the topic they were discussing. Something about the new winter collection coming out in January. Both he and Malia watched the brown liquid slowly fill the container. Malia switched her focal point when Scott picked up the pot full of the hot caffeinated liquid. She watched him as he poured the liquid into two mugs. He placed the pot back into its slot in the coffee maker and carefully grabbed the two steaming mugs by their handle hoping to not be burned. He made his way to the table placing a mug down in front of Malia and his chair.

Lydia and Kira stopped their conversation short. It was silent for a few seconds after Scott sat down. He began to pour in the creamer and measured out the sugar to his specifications.

"Where's Stiles?" Lydia asked and one of her sculpted eyebrows rose, it was rare to see Scott without his right hand man during vacation time. Malia was curious herself as she peered over her coffee at her Alpha.

"He went to the beach," this received weird looks from both Kira and Malia. He continued, "For some odd reason he likes to go to the ocean to relax. Stiles told me once that the sound and smell was just as comforting as his home. He spent a lot of time there after his mom's funeral. Stiles goes there to unwind and I don't blame him for going. Actually I'm surprised that he was able to wait this long before going to the beach."

Malia's gaze softened after his explanation.

"Okay. So why are we here, Scott?" Malia spoke after taking a drink from her cup.

"Because I felt like someone was hurt and I panicked. I was going to visit you all last night but Kira convinced me to go back to sleep and to contact you in the morning if I still had the feeling. You can guess the outcome since you are here." Scott had ignored the whispered 'thank you' Lydia and Malia whispered to Kira while he was talking. Lydia was the first to respond.

"Did you talk to Stiles?"

Scott nodded.

"He seemed fine. Albeit a little burnt, but he is fine."

From the corner of his eye, Scott could see Malia relaxing back into the chair. He looked to Kira and was met with a questioning stare.

"It could've had something to do with Derek."

Scott was taken aback by that statement.

"What? Didn't he become like pack after the whole nogitsune situation?" Lydia asked after seeing his shocked face.

Scott hadn't thought of that. Even more reason to find the older wolf.

"It's possible, but I promised Stiles that I'd let him help," -and he's the one who came up with the plan- "with finding and rescuing Derek."

"Fine." Lydia ground out. "When is Stiles coming back?"

"He said he'll be back in a few days then we can go look for our pack member." It was an odd thought to Scott to consider Derek pack after Scott had blatantly refused to be a part of the recovering Hale Pack. Lost in his thoughts Scott didn't notice when the conversation took a turn. The three females argued over what to do with the rest of the day since 'someone' had woke them up. Scott groaned as he absentmindedly stirred his coffee with his spoon wishing for his friend. It's times like these that Scott wishes he could just play COD and gourge themselves on junk food but with Stiles on vacay, he was stuck with whatever plans his pack came up with for the remainder of the day.

* * *

Farren tried hard not to flinch each time Trevor put the disinfectant on his wounds and taping the bandages onto his red skin. He was now feeling the sunburn. At first, he thought it was just an effect of too hot of water beating on his already sensitive skin, but he was wrong. With each application of the Band-Aid, it felt as if Trevor was taking sandpaper and rubbing it constantly against his skin. Farren tried not to move around as much to avoid the uncomfortable feeling. Farren wouldn't be surprised if he started peeling in the next few days. Trevor pushed Farren into the room after he finished applying the last bandage and closed the bathroom door leaving Farren alone. Farren yelled his thanks to him as he pulled up the plaid sleep pants Trevor had left him on the dresser. The white cotton shirt he had found after opening all the drawers in the dresser was soft to the touch and it wasn't too tight to cause irritation through friction. Trevor told Farren where he should put his dirty, tattered rags – the trashcan.

Trevor came back from inside the bathroom and all but dragged the other boy through the house and onto the balcony to watch the ocean. They sat in relative silence listening to the waves. Farren was almost asleep when Trevor asked if Farren wanted to go swimming.

"Dude isn't it like freezing this time of year?" Farren looked at Trevor as if the boy had grown a second head in the space of a few seconds. Trevor just laughed and moved to lean against the railings. Farren just settled deeper into the swinging chair he had commandeered.

"It was a joke. But seriously what should we do. I mean we could go bug my Uncle at his restaurant or go to the Pier and fish…" At the mention of fish, Farren's head had snapped up. The motion caught Trevor's attention and it took all of his willpower not to mock the teenager whose face had light up like a toddler's when playing with its favorite toy. His eyes were practically sparkling from either the thought of fishing or just of fish.

"From that reaction, I'm guessing we are going to go fishing." Trevor had hauled himself away from the railing he was leaning on and motioned for Farren to follow him.

The swing had creaked from the absence of the weight and continued to swing long after its occupant left it. Farren was following close behind, his mind racing with the thought and his mouth began to water at just thinking about the taste. Trevor stopped right in front of the stairs and turned to Farren.

"I'm going upstairs to change since it's a short walk to the pier. I think you should do the same unless you want to walk around in pajama pants." A blush had formed on the other male's face out of embarrassment.

"I think I could pull it off," Farren said using his embarrassment to fuel his sarcasm. Trevor laughed as he ascended the stairs.

"You look about my size. Clothes are in the dresser. I assume you remember where they are considering you found that shirt." Trevor stated over his shoulder to Farren as he neared the top steps. When Trevor turned the corner at the top of the stairs, Farren walked into the guest bedroom. He once again riffled through the drawers.

Farren had settled for a pair of jeans, but opted out of getting a new shirt instead keeping the cotton one on. He looked around for shoes. He found a couple of pairs near the left side of the dresser and tried them on. None of them fit, either they were too small or too big. He walked back into the living room crashing on the couch. A few minutes later Trevor came down the stairs his keys jangling from the movement. He had changed from the off-white button up to a black pullover. Farren had stretched out on the couch his feet propped up on the armrest. Trevor arched a brow at Farren's lack of shoes.

"What? I don't know nor remember my shoe size. Quite frankly I'm just glad these pant actually fit." Farren finished with a wave of his hands towards his legs. Trevor chuckled quietly to himself and an idea flashed through his brain.

"My father owns one of those beach side shops." Trevor stated walking over to the door but stopped when he didn't hear movement from the couch. He looked back him catching the look of concentration from the boy and guessed that it had something to do with his lack of memories. Hoping to help Farren find out more about himself he continued, "You know the ones where you can find beach towels, swim suits, and those weird souvenirs?"

"Sounds familiar." Farren grumbled. The look of concentration contorted to one of frustration.

"It's only a short walk from here. You can't go barefoot where we are going to go fish so we can get you some shoes, maybe flip-flops, to wear."

"If and when I regain my memories I owe you so much." Farren sighed further sinking into the couch. His arm was draped along the back and his head was resting against the same armrest it was on earlier in the day.

"Yeah. Yeah. I'll make you a tab. Come on let's go before all the fish die of old age." Trevor opened the front door and motioned for Farren to hurry up.

Farren disentangled himself from the couch with a grunt and walked over to the door. Farren left out the door first and waited on the front porch steps for Trevor to secure the house. Trevor closed the door behind him and pulled out the keys locking the door. Farren was leaning against the small railings on the sides of the steps. Trevor walked past him and onto the street in the direction of his father's shop. Farren followed shortly behind.

* * *

Trevor wasn't lying when he said that the store his father owned was only a short walk away. It was around four blocks away and fortunately for Farren the sidewalk continued the whole way making it easier for him to avoid injury to his feet. The two arrived at the store front several minutes later. The front of the building was all windows the top row having a different beach towel between the panes. The entrance were two sliding glass doors underneath a faded green awning. There were only a couple of vehicles in the parking lot. The name of the store was placed on the top of the building with waves circling the words. The image of the storefront tickled the back of Farren's brain; he had seen it before. He glanced around hoping to gain more knowledge but there was only a boat rental place across the street. Disheartened Farren turned to follow Trevor into the store. He walked in looking for Trevor. Farren almost came face to face with a shelf of beach toys but was able to stop himself before he caused any damage. Only two buckets escaped his reach and clattered to the ground.

Farren frantically looked around to find Trevor hoping he wasn't too terribly mad at Farren's clumsiness. Farren spotted Trevor talking to a man near the front desk and absentmindedly put the bucket on the shelf. Farren assumed that the man was Trevor's father if looks were anything to go by. Trevor turned around and waved him over. Farren walked up to the two navigating his way through the maze of shelves not wanting to knock over anything else. Trevor introduced his father with an embellishment of his hand.

"This is my dad. Michael Abram."

"Just call me Mike." Mike extended his hand to Farren who took it. He looked like he was in his mid-forties and had the same shade of brown as his son. He was dressed in a yellow polo with khaki pants and brown leather shoes adoring his feet. The man was smiling causing the edges of his eyes to crinkle.

"Trevor told me about your predicament son. If I can help someone in need, I will. The shoes are in that direction." He pointed over Farren's shoulder – he turned to Trevor. "I'll be in my office if you need me." He patted Trevor on the shoulder and left walking behind the counter to the door there. A phone ringing could be heard when he opened the door and Mike glanced back at Trevor with a stern look before walking in and shutting the door.

Farren had looked to Trevor to ask what the look was for but the words caught in his throat at seeing a look of pure hatred in his eyes. Farren quickly shifted his attention to looking around the shop. He hadn't taken in the details earlier. The store itself was big and contained many things one would need when going to the beach. His eyes were drawn to the small book section that was close by and started walking there but was stopped by Trevor.

"Come on man," Trevor pulled Farren by his arm and started dragging him in the opposite direction.

Farren allowed himself to be manhandled to the shoes but his gaze never left the books, he could see both new and old books there. Trevor had let him go when they reached the racks of shoes and he immediately left in search of the foot measure. Farren saw a pair of gray slip on shoes and walked towards them. He examined them and winced at noticing their price. He physically let them go and walked to the rack of flip-flops. Trevor had noticed this when he came back with the foot measure. Trevor had decided for some payback from previous times by sneaking up on Farren. Farren was none the wiser while looking at some black plastic flip-flops. Trevor smacked Farren lightly on his head causing him to jump and knocking off the shoes.

"What are you doing?" Farren asked as he stooped down and picked up the pair.

Trevor just waved the tool in his hand. Farren exchanged the shoes for the tool and walked towards the small bench that was situated in the middle of the shoe section. While Farren found his size, he hung the black flip-flops back on the hook. He turned to see Farren staring at the display of the gray slip on sneakers. An idea popped into his head and he broke out into a smile. He walked over grabbing the tool from Farren and read the size.

"Wha-," Farren began. Trevor placed the tool down and grabbed the box carefully because it was underneath another box. It came to Farren what he was doing.

"No." Farren protested as he stood. "No. Those are too expensive." He picked up the black flip-flops. "Besides I like these."

Trevor gave him a skeptical look. "And I call bull-shit." He waved the box in front of Farren's face. "I saw you looking at these earlier. Twice." The two had a staring contest after a minute or so Farren gave in.

"I'll put it on your tab." Trevor began walking towards the register.

"Sure thing." Farren replied jogging to catch up to Trevor. Trevor was flirting with the girl behind the register, Carrie. Something about her made Farren uneasy he reasoned it was that she looked familiar. She had curly blond hair pulled back into a ponytail and had wolf earrings. They were silver and the wolf looked like it was howling.

"Cool earrings." She looked to Farren and a look of recognition flashed across her face, but it was gone as soon as it came.

"Thanks. I've never seen you around before. What is your name?" Carrie asked as she scanned the shoes.

"Uh…"

"He's Farren. He's family, visiting from out of town." Trevor quickly said. Carrie nodded putting the shoes into a bag.

"Actually he's going to wear those out." Trevor pointed out. She smiled at him and pulled shoes out to place them in front of Farren.

Farren slipped them on and Carrie handed Trevor the receipt who pocketed it. They made their way back to the house to get ready to go fishing. On the way back to the house they started talking about what type of fish are in season and which lures to use. When they reached the house, Trevor jogged up to the house and unlocked the side door of the garage. He told Farren to wait there while he went in and grabbed the lures. Farren waited by the side of the house and started unknowingly starching his shoulder.

After a couple of seconds Farren realized what he was doing and freaked out thinking that he had reopened it. He pulled down his shirt collar and only saw the white of the bandage, but it didn't stop itching. He slowly peeled the bandage from his shoulder and froze. The wound was gone.

'It's impossible. They should've taken _weeks_ to heal. Not _hours_.'

Farren fell to his knees, hands gripping the side of his head. Trevor found him in that position as he came out of the garage. He quickly placed the lure box and poles on the side of the house and ran to Farren. He lightly shook him.

Farren didn't know how long he was like that but his brain was a jumbled mess. Images kept dancing across his mind but he couldn't get a good look at them before they disappeared. Trevor shaking him snapped him out of his trance. Farren realizes he had been crying as he looked up at Trevor who hauled him to his feet. Farren stumbled as Trevor dragged him to the porch. He leaned against the wall there. Trevor looked at him worried.

"Did you remember something?"

"No." Farren breathed.

"Then what happened?" His voice was laced with concern.

"They're gone." Farren's gaze never left the floor.

"Who's gone? You're not making any sense." Trevor huffed out and started to pace. "I thought you said you didn't remember anything!" Trevor said exasperatedly.

Farren's eyes snapped to Trevor's, "The wounds. They're gone."

* * *

**So how did ya'll like seeing the Pack? Poor Scott he's surrounded by girls without Stiles. I do like cliffhangers even when I was writing this just for myself. Thanks for reading and if you have any questions review or PM me. Until this Friday with two chapters, Bluetears out~**


	5. Chapter 4: Revelations

**AN: Hola amigos! I'm back and publishing this chapter early. The other one will be published tomorrow. I didn't want to study for a test tomorrow. I swear I have something major due every Friday, BUT I will not give up on this story until it is finished! I know the feelings too well of a FF going on hiatus or being discontinued, usually they're the good ones too. I want to thank all the new followers: A lone Black Angel, Kaseytrue, We're All M-M-Mad here, Kalbus2002, and Silversnakes. When I get an email alert about you guys following it brightens my day. Thanks to those that reviewed: Shadow-wolf78. This story wouldn't be on here without ya'll's support. This chapter was kinda short but next chapter is very detailed orientated. **

**Warnings~ Not beta'd. Kinda fluffy but I promise there will never, ever be anything between the two. I actually have someone for Trevor in mind. ;D**

**Disclaimer: seriously? Would I be writing ff if I owned Teen Wolf? but if I did, well Jackson would be back in Beacon Hills for one. **

* * *

Chapter 4: Revelations

"Are you sure?" Trevor asked stopping in the middle of the steps.

"I'm pretty damn sure!" Farren yelled standing up. Frustration and anger were evident in his eyes. "They were there this afternoon and now they're not!" To emphasize his point he tugged down the collar of his shirt revealing slightly red skin.

Trevor's sea blue eyes went wide and he backed away. He forgot that he was in front of the stairs so he went tumbling down them. He looked back up at Farren terrified. Farren saw the terror in his new friend's eyes and felt disgusted with himself. He launched off the porch and over Trevor's fallen form. He sprinted to the beach looking back to see Trevor scrambling to get back on two feet. This persuaded him to faster, not wanting to be caught. He reached the beach faster than he originally thought and collapsed on the sand. He wrapped his appendages around his shaking body forming a ball like shape, tears slowly rolling down his cheeks.

The look Trevor gave him was burned into his brain; it was one of shock and horror. 'What the hell am I?' Farren asked himself repeatedly in his head. He began wonder why this happened to him and if the person he was before knew this. He just sat there watching the waves crash against the shore wanting to disappear.

* * *

Trevor watched as Farren bolted from the porch and was not quick enough to catch the direction the amnesiac boy went. The first the thought that went across his mind was 'I have to tell them.'

Trevor pulled out his phone and dialed his uncle's number. He picked up immediately.

"Yes?" His uncle drawled.

"They're fully healed. He freaked and ran. I'm not sure what to do or where he would go. You're more versed in this kind of thing than I am. I need your help. Your advice." Trevor rushed out before he breathed. He inhaled deeply waiting for his uncle's response.

"Calm down. That's vital in finding him. Remember he's one of them now. Find him before his pack does." And with that, his uncle hung up.

"Shit." He muttered.

'He couldn't have gotten far.' Trevor thought scanning around for any tracks or clues of the boy's whereabouts. Trevor took off in the direction he thought he might've gone. After doubling back, twice Trevor found Farren an hour later. The boy looked to be a daze; his eyes were glazed over and fixed on the ocean. The tears had long since ceased, but their tracks were still visible on his face. The area around his eyes were red indicating that he had only stopped crying recently. His hands were clutching the sides of his shirt and his arms were circling his legs where his chin was resting. He was so still not moving even when Trevor sat down next to him.

"What am I?" It was barely a whisper, but Trevor caught it over the crashing of the waves. Sighing at the loaded question, Trevor looked up at the sky.

'This is only going to freak him out more,' Trevor thought before he spoke.

"A Werewolf." He said eyeing the male searching for any signs that he was going to bolt again.

The other teen's body seemed to deflate. Farren finally looked at him. Trevor could practically see the questions swimming in his eyes.

"How do you know?" He finally asked looking back at the ocean. Trevor contemplated telling him the truth and decided that he should stick with the truth, well not the whole truth he still has a duty to his family.

"I found you near here covered in claw marks. I could see bone in some places. By the time I had dragged you back to my house, they had stopped bleeding." _Which is odd because the others bleed out before I got them to the sidewalk – _Trevor kept the last bit to himself. He didn't want to spook Farren off. Trevor stretched his arms out behind him leaning on them.

"I thought you were dead having bleed out before I could patch you up, but you still had a pulse, a faint one, but one nonetheless. I bandaged you up the best I could and laid you down on some towels." Trevor snuck a glance at Farren whose face was contorted with confusion. His eyes became hooded and he further slouched into his arms.

"Why didn't you contact the authorities or bring me to a hospital?" His tone was accusing. Trevor sighed, it was unavoidable, the truth.

"You healed abnormally fast. That's a trait of a werewolf. People would've noticed if you came in looking like a Thriller reject and left without even a scar." Trevor let this information sink in. However, Trevor didn't expect him to speak so quickly.

"How did I become like this?" Farren had freed an arm to motion to himself.

"You must've been scratched by an alpha since you didn't have any teeth marks on ya." Trevor looked back at Farren to see him staring back. His eyebrows were furrowed.

"You can be turned if an Alpha werewolf bites you or in some cases, such as yourself, if their claws go too deep." Trevor paused, a thought arriving at the forefront of his mind. "Are your sense heightened?"

Farren just stared at him. "What? I'm not sure what you're asking."

"Well let's test it. Can you hear my heartbeat? How about smell my shampoo?" Trevor had positioned his whole body so he was facing the newly turned werewolf. Farren grew quiet for a few seconds cocking his head to the side, giving him the image of a curious puppy. Trevor didn't say anything not even breathing while he waited for Farren who had closed his eyes in concentration. The silence was broken by Farren's deep inhale through his nose. Trevor's body tensed only relaxing and taking a breath when Farren replied.

"No. Can't hear anything but the waves and I can only smell the sea salt." Farren reopened his eyes. Trevor was just as confused as Farren felt. Trevor hadn't known any werewolf who was previously a human before so this was new to him.

"Maybe it takes a while for them to kick in," Trevor offered. "Keep an eye on them and tell me if anything changes."

That earned a short nod from Farren. Trevor was not prepared for what came next.

"So how do you know about werewolves?" He asked nonchalantly as if he was asking about the weather. His gaze calculating.

'Dammit.' Trevor internally cursed. He took a deep breath closing his eyes as he spoke.

"My family is different."

"How different? Are you a werewolf too?" Farren paused, whispering – "Or something else?"

Trevor huffed out a laugh. "Something else. God. Promise you won't laugh?" Trevor opened his eyes to gauge his friend.

"Dude. Apparently, I'm a werewolf now. Can't get any weirder than that." Farren caught Trevor's expression. "Can it?" Farren's tone had lost its merry tone. A pregnant pause followed. Trevor was thinking on how to articulate his response and Farren was having a mini-meltdown. Trevor waited for his friend to regain some composure before he spoke.

"Okay so it does get weirder. Werewolves are real so that means there has to be other things, right?" Farren broke the silence.

'You have no idea.' Trevor thought bitterly.

"My family can be traced all the way back to Ireland. We were originally called the Murúch or in laymen's terms, Mermaids." He shifted his sight to look at Farren to see any if any doubt had marred his features. He found none so he went back to looking out at the sea.

"We used to be a big family, or so says my great-grandfather. He said that the discovery of America had split the family. There are few of them left." Trevor's voice cracked when he mentioned his grandfather and felt a hand on his shoulder.

"You don't have to push yourself. I'm guessing he passed recently. You don't have to tell me your whole family history." Trevor gave him a terse nod and silence descended on the two. Farren waited but the silence had begun to bother him.

"So how come you don't have a tail or gills?" Trevor could hear a hint of humor in his voice. He snorted before replying, "We can grow them on will in the water. It's not like we touch any type of water and we sprout fins. That'd get annoying real quick."

"That's awesome." Farren breathed. Trevor was taken aback by his reply.

"What?"

"You can breathe underwater! Do you know how many people – including me – would kill for that? Wait; don't read too much into that. I'm not going to kill you. I owe ya." Farren joked putting his hands up. Trevor laughed. "Thanks."

"No problem. I do have another question, though."

"Hmm?"

"Can I see it?"

Trevor choked on his air and jerked his head to look at Farren.

"Whoa! I meant your tail. I don't roll that way; well I don't think I do…" Farren put his hand on his ever-reddening face. Trevor was wary but agreed earning a fist pump and an excited, "Yes!" from Farren.

"But." Farren looked defeated. "It'll be tomorrow. We have to inform my father." Trevor stood up stretching. Farren followed suit.

"Okay."

They both headed back to Trevor's house.

* * *

"Oh Thank God." Mike breathed before pulling Trevor into a hug. He had whipped open the door after Trevor sheepishly knocked on it (he had forgotten his keys because of today's earlier events).

"Dad. I'm fine," Trevor pulled away from his over affectionate father.

"Your uncle called and told me. You were gone for over an hour! I thought he did something." He glared at Farren who stepped back putting his hands up.

"No Dad. It's fine. He knows what he is and also knows about _us_." Trevor whispered the last part hoping that his father didn't catch it, but unfortunately, he did.

"What?!" He snapped.

Trevor ran his hand through his hair and gently pushed his father into the house not wanting anyone to witness the conversation that was sure to come.

"I told him because he asked about how I knew about werewolves. And I know that they could detect lies and I didn't want him to do anything rash out of anger of me lying to him." Trevor apologized to Farren through looks who looked hurt.

"You should've consulted me first!" He pointed a finger at Farren. "And you! If you ever-"Farren interrupted Mike before he could finish the threat.

"I won't. I owe him so much already. I owe him my life. I'd sooner loose mine than hurt him, but in a totally platonic way of course." Farren smirked when Trevor burst out laughing. His dad's glare softened and he turned on his heel to the kitchen. No doubt to start dinner. Trevor slapped on the back wiping tears from his eyes.

"Come on. Dad makes the best Ginger Glazed Salmon."

He followed Trevor into the dining room and started helping set the table. Farren thought it was least he could do.

* * *

**AN: I know it's short. Forgive me! Hoped you liked the interaction between the two (Farren and Trevor). Doesn't Trevor's uncle remind you of someone? hmmm? no. damn. OH well. Anyway any questions, concerns, comments, or criticisms are welcome either in a review or a PM. See ya'll tomorrow with Chapter 5: Growing a Pair. The title is still in the works. **


	6. Chapter 5: Growing a pair

**AN: Okay. That is it. From now on I'm updating on Saturdays because Fridays are too hectic for me to get a chapter out on time. And I just hate letting ya'll down with not submitting a chapter on time. On another note, I got to milk a cow today. It was fun. Is it just me or do cows always look so confused? Anyways onto the story. I just want to thank those that followed and favorited this story: Daughter of Son and Moon, llamaprincess13, Cecld16, and codemann6100. It brings me great joy that you enjoyed this work. Thanks to any who review, especially Shadow-Wolf78. I hope that this chapter isn't a dissappointment because it's one of my favorites. Please excuse the title it's just well...you know weird. Snarkiness and sarcasm make the world go round. Okay enough with the onesided chit-chat, onto the show!**

**Warning~ Not beta'd (oh the irony)**

**Disclaimer: oh the things I would do if I owned Teen Wolf...dragons, js.**

* * *

Chapter 5: Growing a Pair

When Farren woke up the next morning, he felt refreshed. He stretched and got up heading towards the bathroom stopping to grab the swim shorts on the dresser. After dinner last night, Mike had warmed up to the idea of Trevor showing Farren but it took much persuasion from both parties. They had to promise that they would go somewhere with no people and Farren looked out for someone. He shrugged off the t-shirt once he was in the bathroom. Last night he had forgotten to take the rest of the useless bandages off before he had collapsed into bed. He began pealing them off. His eyes widened when instead of pale flesh they were met with tan skin. He had quickly pulled his pants off to see that his legs had also tanned. They weren't as tan as his torso, but also not the red it was before.

Pulling on the shorts swiftly and opened the door. He slipped his feet into the gray ones from yesterday. The navy color of the shorts complimented them. Farren raced out of the room to find Trevor in orange and red trunks with a cotton shirt not unlike the one he wore yesterday. He was on the couch flipping through the channels on the TV stuffing his face with to two eggs on a piece toast before noticing Farren had exited the room. His eyes flicked from the TV to Farren.

"You're going to need a shirt." He said around a mouthful of food. Farren realized his half-nakedness and rushed back into the room to grab a lime green loose fitting tee. By the time he had put it on and left the room Trevor had put some toast on the bar connected to the kitchen near the TV. Farren strode over and hopped up onto a stool leaning against the granite. He saw that butter and grape jelly along with a knife had been placed near the plate. He spread the butter and jelly on the bread. While eating he swiveled so he was looking out at the sea. He finished eating rather quickly and reached over to place the plate in the sink on the lower counter space in front of the bar. Grabbing both butter and jelly, he placed them back into the fridge before walking back into the living room to help get ready for their excursion.

"There's these cluster of rocks that make it difficult to see this one part of the bay. Only my family knows how to get there. Well soon you will know too." Trevor tossed a towel to Farren who caught it.

"Do you need me to help with the making of lunch?"

"Nah. I'm an early riser. I did that already." Trevor motioned to beach bag by the door.

"It's like a little mini cooler so we'll have drinks too." Trevor tried to pick up the bag but Farren had beat him to it.

"No. I get to carry it since you made the food." Farren stated.

Trevor complied and held the door open. Farren walked through and waited for Trevor to lock the door. Farren followed Trevor until they reached the rocks; they were in the opposite direction than the shop. They reminded Farren of mountains; tall and clustered together leaving only small cracks big enough for a small person. Trevor slipped through them easily while Farren on the other hand kept running into the sides causing scratches to form on the sides of his arms.

Trevor had already stripped off his shirt by the time Farren had navigated his way through the rocks. 'Must be because he has come here for many years.' Farren thought as he looked down to assess his injuries. They only broke the top layer of skin so he wasn't bleeding. Farren walked far away from the water to avoid any of their items to get wet just in case. He picked up Trevor's discarded shirt on the way and after he laid out the towels, he placed it on the green one. He set the cooler bag down taking off his shoes and placing them next to his towel. The sand was warm underneath his toes and he could feel the rays of the sun warming him. The rocks blocked most of the wind so there was only a slight breeze every so often.

'This place must be killer during the summer.' Farren pulled off his tee and threw it on his orange towel. As he was bending, back up something hard hit him on his left shoulder. He looked down noting that it must've been one of Trevor's shoes that hit him.

"What-" Farren found Trevor already in the water waist deep and laughing.

"-hell man?!" Farren yelled while stalking towards the water.

"I was aiming for the towel. You just happened to be in the way of my shoes." Trevor said nonchalantly.

"Little warning next time."

"I didn't think it would hit you until you stood back up." Trevor walked farther into the water before he ducked his head under the water.

Farren tested the temperature by sticking a foot in. Recoiling at how the cold the water was, Farren reluctantly walked in. He stopped every so often to let his body adjust to the water. He did this until he was waist deep in the water. Farren rubbed his arms to get rid of the goose bumps there and felt the warmth of the sun on his back. He was lost in a trace trying to balance being cold the waist down while he was warm torso and up. He was taken out of his revere when something scaly brushed past his legs. Farren recoiled and looked around by his feet to find the creature. His thoughts wandered to Trevor. Where had the other boy gone? As if he could read thoughts, Trevor resurfaced with a grin on his face.

"Should've known." Farren mumbled.

Trevor swam back to the shore to sit of the sand and Farren saw a bit of white break the surface of the water. Farren followed close trying to get another peek at his tail. Trevor scooted up on the shore until the water was clear and Farren could clearly see the tail. He gasped when he say it. It was a dark navy with copper colored scales running down the sides of the tail. It started off wide where the skin melded into scales and tapered off the further it went down. The fins were like a goldfish's but they were thicker, powerful. The tips of the fins were the white that Farren saw earlier and they faded into the navy of the tail.

Farren must've been staring for longer than he thought because Trevor knocked him down with a sweep of his fins. Farren fell backwards into the water and Trevor scooted away darting into the water. Farren emerged from under the water and could hear Trevor laughing. Farren spit out the water and searched for the Murúch. After Farren spotted him quite a few yards away, Trevor dived into the water his tail causing waves. Farren pursued the Murúch into the ocean. The deeper he chased Trevor into the ocean the more his lungs had begun to burn for air. Farren paused looking up at the light streaming in from the surface of the water. His gaze snapped back toward the retreating form of Trevor. Jealousy flared. Wishing he had a tail and gills made him swim after Trevor that much harder. His lungs ached for air and his arms and legs started to grow tired. Farren gave up trying to catch the mermaid and begun swimming back to the surface.

He stopped when he felt a sharp pain go up his leg. He reached down to massage his leg but his lungs started to protest. He swam even faster but his sides erupted in pain. It felt as if his ribs were splitting open. His legs started to feel heavy and it became increasingly harder to kick with both feet. As another jolt of pain ran up his legs, he gasped taking in water. He could no longer see Trevor and was sinking fast. He closed his eyes resigned to his fate when he realized he wasn't blacking out. Opening his eyes, he tried to move his legs again, but they didn't even respond as if he was paralyzed. He kept sinking deeper until his butt hit the ocean floor. He looked around for Trevor and spotted him a little ways off, it was as he was doubling back.

'Oh thank god.' Farren thought and yelled for Trevor. But in doing so, more water was able to rush into his lungs except this time his lungs weren't burning.

Farren blinked and Trevor was in front of him.

'Must've been toying with me earlier,' Farren internally grumbled. Farren's mood flipped at seeing the look of pure shock on Trevor's face.

"Hello. Drowning here." Farren's voice was warbled, but it caused Trevor to shake his head. "Why aren't you helping me back to the surface?" Instead of answering, Trevor just smiled grabbing Farren's hand and bringing it to his neck.

Farren felt the slits in his skin – his gills. 'I have gills.' Farren was now confused. His hands immediately flew to his legs, or rather, his tail. They were smooth, and Farren could feel each individual one, hard but flexible.

"_Don't worry. It's easy to use. Just imagine that you have one leg, like when you were a-"_Trevor stopped and sheepishly scratched his hair _"-pretend you still have both legs and move them together. It's similar to that."_ Trevor explained, but his mouth didn't move. Farren filed that question away for later.

He tried doing what he was told by Trevor, and only succeeded in making his tail twitch after a couple of tries. He was starting to get frustrated. He glared at the Murúch who was easily staying upright in the water. He finally got a good look at Trevor under the water. He looked so much different than he did on land. For one his gills were visible and on both his neck, three on each side, and his torso, four under his pectorals on his sides. There was skin of some kind in between each of his fingers and there was a fin on each side of his hips. His eyes also glowed, as if they were phosphorus under a black light. They were a teal color. Trying once more to move his tail, he got it fully move causing him to go backwards butt skidding on the ground.

'Do I still have a butt?' Farren questioned. The next time he was able to push himself off the bottom. It took him multiple more failures and more advice from Trevor:

"_Move your whole body to stay upright." _

"_NO. Not like that. Roll with the motion all the way through. Yes even through the tail." _

By the end of the 'training session', Trevor sounded exasperated but he succeeded in getting Farren to keep himself upright. Trevor flicked his tail and shot up to the surface. Farren mimicked the action multiple times before he could break the surface (his new muscles weren't adjusted yet). He broke the surface and couldn't wait to take a deep breath of air. He soon started choking and the air burned as if he had engulfed water (oh the irony).

"Whoa there. I wouldn't do that with those." Trevor said pointing to Farren's newly acquired set of gills.

Glaring at him Farren made a choked gurgle noise. Getting the message, Trevor explained that he would just have to think of breathing air not water. After a couple seconds, Farren felt his skin warm and he could feel the gills closing. He gasped for air, coughing in between breaths. Trevor tackled him seeming lose control of his joy.

"You're a Murúch too! Oh this is great." Trevor let go of him and started swimming in circles around Farren. "This must mean you could be a distant relative of mine, well very distant if the scale colors are anything to go by. Oh man Dad'll loose his shit!" Trevor beamed at him.

"So this mean I'm not a werewolf?" Farren joked.

"Hell yeah! You are something so much better! I'll even bet that those scratches triggered your dormant genes." Trevor grabbed him by the arm and propelled them to the shore. Farren realized they had gone farther out that originally thought. Farren twitched his tail every so often so he wouldn't be a dead weight for Trevor who kept on talking. "-I mean I heard about cases of a paranormal's powers awakening from a bite, but I never thought that an Alpha's scratches could be enough to also." They had reached the shore by the end of Trevor's sentence and Trevor laid down on the sand.

The water was surrounding him. His tail was floating inches from the sand causing the scales to glitter as the sunlight bounced off them. Farren followed suit, but sat up to study his own tail. It was brown with a red tint to them and almost every scale had gold flecks in them. There were two white stripes running down the sides of his tail. His fins were like Trevor's only thinner. The only difference was instead of his going brown to white tips; his went from brown at the base to white until at the tips it was a blood red. Farren reached down and began stroking his soft scales again.

"They're actually really tough. When I was nine my tail got nicked by a propeller and instead of my tail being damaged, _I_ damaged _it_." Farren looked at him in shock but Trevor only gave him a small shrug.

"Cool." He whispered while running his hand down his side tracing the white scales, which seem to have gold flecks too.

"If you think that's cool, let me show you all of my tricks." Trevor smirked as he pushed himself forward and back under the water. Farren remembered to release his gills after he was fully submerged. He surged forward with a laugh following Trevor.

* * *

**So? How was it? Did I throw a curve ball? nah? It's cool. I seriously can't wait to give ya'll chapter 7 cuz I wrote this whole backstory and everything. I might say I'm quite proud of myself. But if I gave it to you guys so soon I'd have to work double time to keep my cushion of pre-written chapters. Can I hear some of ya'll's thoughts on this turn of events? Just leave a review if ya want. I should probably get a beta-reader. Hmmm...it'll cause me to write my chapters early enough so they'll be one time. I'll think about it. So until next SATURDAY. Bluetears out~**


	7. Chapter 6: Panic at the Beach

**AN: Okay you guys. I have a crap ton of excuses as to why I haven't updated in like two weeks, but I'm sure ya'll don't care about them. So I am apologizing for this long delay. And have now realized that I can't keep deadlines unless I'm given grades. Oh my life. Anyways I have proofread this chapter three times before submitting it on here so there shouldn't be any big mistakes. Thanks to those that have followed and favorited this story. You guys are great. And to those that have reviewed you guys are great too. Saturday the chapter with the Murúch history will be up. If it isn't updated you are free to hurt/maim me. **

**Warnings~**

**No beta'd. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. **

**Disclaimer- I don't own Teen Wolf, but if I did I wouldn't be writting FF now would I?**

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Chapter 6: Panic at the Beach

After a game of tag, which Farren lost, the two boys crawled up onto the beach. Trevor's tail immediately shifted back into his land legs while Farren maneuvered so that only his fins were touching the water. Trevor sprinted across the sand snatching up his trunks and shaking them frantically to get rid of the sand that was probably in every crease. Farren tilted his head back and laughed, deep and throaty. Trevor looked at him in confusion.

"Werewolves and mermaids," Trevor made a face, "are real."

"It does sound pretty crazy." Trevor dried himself off with a towel in one hand and continued shaking out his shorts with the other.

Farren tried to move himself back into the water, the sand was not the most comfortable thing to sit on. He plopped back down on the sand after failing to get into a comfortable position.

"How do I go back to two feet?" Farren felt like a fish out of water both literally and metaphorically, he was new to this.

"Same way you made it appear- will." Trevor said over his shoulder as he slipped his trunks on after he felt that the majority of sand was gone.

Furrowing his brows in concentration, Farren could feel the shift. The numbness was back and he stared down in amazement as he watched his scales flatten and fuse together to become skin. It was disturbing to watch his tail morph back into legs. There was only a slight soreness to them as he got up. He stood carefully and made sure he had his balance before trying to walk. He hobbled over to where Trevor was standing. Trevor had his back to him and was searching through the cooler. He reached down to grab his shirt that he had discarded before their swim.

"The first full shift is the worst. I was sore for three days. Not just a muscle ache it was to the bone sore." Farren had zeroed in on 'full shift'.

'Full shift'- he thought – 'what?'

"The tail," Trevor said bringing Farren from his musings. His eyebrows scrunched together, he had said that aloud?

"Quite frankly I'm surprised you did it. Mainly because I thought you were a were' from healing so quickly. But before I delve into details. We should get you some pants," Trevor stated, his attention still on his search.

Flushing, Farren covered his privates with the shirt wrapping it around his hips. He glared at Trevor, who only laughed when he caught the pathetic excuse for a glare.

"Oh man. We have a ways to walk too!" Trevor broke out into a fit of laughter.

Farren's blush darkened creeping down his neck. He noticed his discarded towel by his feet and lunged to grab it. He quickly wrapped it around his waist, maneuvering to get the shirt from underneath the towel while trying to preserve what is left of his dignity. After successfully removing the shirt, he tucked a corner of the towel in to keep the towel from falling off. Farren pulled the lime green tee down over his still wet torso causing the shirt to stick to his skin. Trevor was laughing so hard because of Farren's ordeal that he had closed his eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks. Farren sighed running his hand through his hair making it spike up in random places. Farren ripped open the cooler and tossed a can of soda at Trevor when he finally calmed down enough that he stopped crying. Trevor caught it as Farren sat down on the beach.

The crack and fizz of opening the cans could be heard over the crashing of the waves against the shore. It was peaceful. Farren didn't want to ruin it by asking the questions that were flitting through his mind but the silence only contributed to his curiosity.

"So we're related?" he breathed out.

Trevor raised an eyebrow at his question. He swallowed the mouthful of soda before speaking, "Seems like it. Probably not too closely related considering it took an Alpha to awaken it and the scale color."

"Scale color?"

"Yeah. Each tribe have a specific scale color, but when we get back to my house my dad'll explain it further."

"Huh. You said Alpha. You mentioned that yesterday when you were explaining what happened to me."

"Alpha refers to the Alpha werewolf, the leader of a pack of werewolves. Contrary to popular belief, only an Alpha can turn humans. Either with a bite or in your case, if their claws go deep enough."

Farren leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. The soda can loosely grasped in his right hand. This brought more questions than answers.

'What did I do?' Farren hadn't thought much about his life before losing his memories besides the fact of how to get them back. Now, he was curious. How did he become entangled with werewolves? Had he instigated the werewolf or was it a random attack?

"Do you know the Pack that lives here?"

Trevor was quiet for a minute thinking how to phrase his answer. "I don't personally know them but I know of them. I was taught to identify other supernatural creatures since I was little but I'm no expert. We all aren't because we personally haven't met any other supernatural. There are certain ways a werewolf holds themselves that I can pinpoint." Farren hummed in response filtering through the various questions and he knew that he needed to know more.

"I want to know everything about Murúch."

Trevor must've figured out what he wanted and sighed.

"Fine. Let's head back to bug my dad."

* * *

On the way back to the house, Trevor was practically sprinting through the woods. The cooler swinging quickly. Every so often, he would stop letting Farren catch up, even then, he would be bouncing on his heels. Farren inwardly smiled at his antics.

'He's that happy that I'm a Murúch?' Farren stared at Trevor's retreating form jump over a log. Farren's brain then jumped to his family, the one that he had forgotten. He winced as the guilt gripped his heart. His hand tightened around the towel making sure that it did not slip on the trek back. Farren picked up his pace to reach Trevor who had stopped where the edge of the grass meets the sand.

"Why did you give me the name 'Farren'?" Farren asked when he reached Trevor. Trevor looked like Farren had kicked his puppy.

"W-well…" he cleared his throat, "it was my cousin's name before he died in combat." Farren was shocked. Why had he given him, a person he didn't even know, a name that means so much for him?

"Why? You didn't even know me?" Trevor looked down.

"Because of its meaning. It means wanderer in Old English, I think I told you that before. Anyways it's just a temporary name until you remember your old memories. Speaking of which anything new?" It was Farren's turn to look hurt.

"No. I don't remember anything besides the past two days. I don't understand how or why I was attacked." Farren's shoulders sagged.

"Don't worry. I think the Pack believes you to be dead." Farren winced. "That's a good thing. It means they won't come looking for you." Trevor reassured.

He started walking up the hill and Farren looked back over his shoulder once more to see the ocean. He smiled wistfully at the thought that he may have forgotten his old family but he also had a new one in Trevor and his family. He walked forward determined to regain his memories so he could introduce his old family with his new family. It was only a short walk up the hill and they would be back to Trevor's house. As they approached the front door, Trevor fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, watching Farren walk the rest of the way up the hill.

The walk back had made the bottom of the towel wet and sand encrusted. Farren was holding his new shoes in his left hand while his right was clasped to the towel.

"You are totally going to get a crash course on our history." Trevor shouted over his shoulder and sprinted to the front door. Farren sighed while trying to catch up to him without tripping over the towel and flashing people. He adjusted his grip on the towel and lengthened his strides making it easier to cover the distance. Farren was focusing on the ground as he ran so when he reached the porch and looked up he found that the front door was wide open. He glanced to the side and noticed the cooler abandoned by the steps.

'Must've forgot to close the door in his excitement.' Farren thought as he dropped his shoes off by the front door not wanting to bring sand into the house. 'Well not anymore,' Farren added as an afterthought as his eyes followed the visible trail on the wooden floor. Farren no sooner had stepped through the threshold than he was enveloped in a bear hug. He froze, shocked. Farren tilted his head to see who it was that was cutting off his oxygen supply. It was Trevor's dad.

"Uh…not that I don't appreciate...this hospitality but...I think it's bad...manners to choke your guest." Farren squeezed out. Mike stepped back, which gave Farren a view of both Trevor and Mike. The both of them were sporting grins that looked extremely painful.

"Sit down. It's a long story and I'm sure you have many questions." Trevor's father announced motioning towards the couch. Farren sat on the edge of the couch resting an elbow on the armrest. Trevor sat on the stools by the bar. Make sat down on the other end of the couch. He turned to face Farren.

"Let's start with the beginning."

* * *

Scott woke up to no new messages from Stiles. It had been three days since he had last heard from the boy who usually answers right away. At first, he was only slightly worried figuring Stiles just needed time to be alone, but that was replaced with panic when Stiles didn't respond to the text Scott sent last night before bed. Scott took a shower contemplating what to do. After exiting the shower and clothing himself, he sent another text to his pack with the simple message:

'We're going to the beach.'

Dropping the towel into the dirty clothes hamper, Scott grabbed the duffel that he kept under his bed and placed it on his bed. He began to stuff the duffel bag with clothes, towels, money, and cell charger. The first to arrive was Malia. She pounced when Scott opened the door.

"Is he okay?" concern filled her voice. She dropped her bag near the front door.

"I don't know. He's not responding to my messages." Scott closed the door and led her through the kitchen to the living room. His phone beeped. He jumped at the noise and scrambled to get it out of his pocket. His hope was crushed when he saw that is was Kira. She said that she couldn't come because her family was going to spend the day together and get ready for the upcoming holiday. He deflated and drooped onto the couch. Malia paced the front room. Lydia arrived 30 minutes later. She had a bag slung over her shoulder that was bulging. Malia closed the door as Lydia stalked into the house. Cocking an eyebrow at her as she entered the living room, Scott shifted his position so he was sitting upright on the couch.

"Did you tell the Sheriff?" Lydia asked after dropping her bag on the floor and her rear on the couch.

"Actually, Malia and I were discussing how to tell him. I don't want him to freak out if this is nothing. Especially with my father still in town." Scott sighed, leaning on the armrest.

"I suggested to him because he deserves to know if his only"- Malia stressed- "child is in danger." She turned to Scott and glared. This began a staring contest between the two. Lydia stood and flicked her hair over her shoulder.

"How about we say we are going to the beach to surprise Stiles?" Her voice was sickly sweet causing the two supernaturals to look away from each other to her.

"We could use the little vacation." Malia mumbled as she flushed.

"And not alert his father too much."

Scott closed his eyes and got up from the couch. Lydia hummed in content.

"Oh. I brought a bathing suit for you, Malia," Lydia motioned to the bag. Malia's eyes darted to the designer beach bag and widened. Scott could smell the panic rolling off her.

"Malia. What's wrong?" His voice was tender. Panic was replaced with embarrassment.

"Uh…I can't swim that well in this body," She squeaked out.

"All the more reason to go." Lydia smirked.

"Before we go to the Stilinski House, whose car are we taking?" Scott turned to her confused. "Mine right." She whispered sarcastically.

She turned to pick up the bag and started walking towards the door. Her heels clicking on the wood floor. She stopped short of the door and her voice filled the void.

"Are you coming, Scott?"

He slung his duffel onto his shoulder. Lydia opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. Malia was right behind her only stopping to scoop up her bag that she set down earlier. Scott locked the front door and sent a text to his mom: 'Going to the beach to hang with Stiles. Be back in a day or so.' Lydia had started the car with Malia stretching out in the back by the time he reached the car. He slipped into the passenger seat closing the door behind him. Lydia was already backing up when he clicked the seatbelt in place. The ride was short because the McCall house was only a few miles from the Stilinski residence. Pulling up they saw the cruiser in the front of the garage.

They climbed out of the car and knocked on the door and Scott could hear the Sheriff's footsteps nearing the door. The Sheriff was dressed in plaid pajama pants and a long sleeved shirt. He looked like he just woke up. He probably had because Scott couldn't smell the coffee scent that was ever present in the house when either Stilinski was awake. The drowsiness left his being at seeing the teens.

"What happened?" He inquired while opening the door wider. Scott could see the worry working its way onto the older male's features.

"Nothing." Scott said to stop his thoughts.

"We thought we could use a little vacation ourselves and to surprise Stiles." Lydia spoke up. "We were wondering if we could have the information that you had so we don't have to inform Stiles and ruin the surprise."

A smile broke out on his face causing the wrinkles on his face to become prominent. The sheriff invited them inside so he could find the papers he gave Stiles days before.

"I know him. He's probably fishing of a pier or boat." The Sheriff said tilting his head to the right as he walked into the house. He riffled through the drawers in the kitchen until he found a notepad. He grabbed a pen from the same drawer before shutting it with his hip. He jotted down the name of Stiles hotel and its address.

"Have fun. You lot sure could use it." The Sheriff said ripping the noted off and handing it over to Scott. He passed it to Lydia who began to pull up the GPS on her phone to type the hotel's address.

"Thank you." Malia spoke from her position against the counter. Lydia had the directions up. The teens walked towards the door.

"No problem." The Sheriff yawned behind them. When they all were outside and walking down the steps the man waved before shutting the door. The teens waved back at the Sheriff on the way to the vehicle.

"So where are we going?" Malia asked when they were in the vehicle.

"The Red Roof Inn." Lydia said before starting the car.

Scott let out a breathy laugh at his best friend's humor. The drive was going to be approximately three hours. The radio switched to the new Taylor Swift song. Scott groaned and rested his head against the window when Lydia turned the volume up.

'This is going to be long ride,' Scott thought trying to block out the werecoyote's singing in the back to the song.

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**AN: Thanks for reading. Sorry again. If you have any questions PM or review, I promise I will respond. I also apologize to any Taylor Swift fans and I don't own her stuff either.**

**Until Saturday the 8th! Bluetears out~**


	8. Chapter 7: The Threat of War

**AN: Okay. According to me, it isn't Sunday yet til I go to bed. Hopefully, I make some of ya'll happy in the morning when you see that this was updated. There is section in this that I made up while writing this chapter and I am quite proud of it. Thanks to those that have favorited, followed, and reviewed. You guys give me pleasure smile. Anywhoozles, give me some feedback if ya'll got the time. **

**Warnings ~**

**Not beta'd. You have been warned. js. **

**Disclaimer: If I owned Teen Wolf mermaids would be a thing.**

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Chapter 7: The Threat of War

"The Merrow People are a type of shape shifter, much like a werewolf, out powers also increase during the full moon. Our ancestors were versed in magic and it has been a very big part of our lives. They used to live in giant underwater settlements."

(Fade to underwater city) ~omniscient narration begins~

Each settlement had very specific differences between them, but each kept to the same outline. The city was usually positioned in a spiral that centered on a circle where the upper class would live. The towers at the center and the spiral design were more than just aesthetically pleasing. The spiral shape allowed the currents to flow through the city and the gaps that separated each district made it so the current could escape back into the ocean and follow its previous path. Each tribe had a main capital, which could be discerned from the other villages by the tribal crest that hung from the tallest tower that was usually made from the Tribe's scale colors. The majority of the population lived outside these settlements in their houses nestled in the rocks. They took to hunting and cultivating underwater crops for clothing and food. People usually journeyed into the villages or cities to sell or buy goods at the Margadh, or market. One could be found in each small village that was in the territory but the main one was in the capital where the traders from other tribes would come in to trade. Since each tribe lived in different oceans thus different weather patterns and raw materials, it was beneficial to trade for goods that couldn't be made in their territory.

These tribes ruled over vast territories and could be similar to the governments of modern day. Even though a monarch ruled the tribes, the system by which the monarch was chosen was merit based and one could lose the rank if they were executing the will of the people. Another interesting fact about the royal ranking was that anyone could be born a royal and people born into a royal family doesn't necessarily have to be a royal. By looking at the shape of the metallic scales, one could figure out their rank. The straighter the line of metallic scales the higher one is in rank. The royalty of each tribe had another colored that set them apart from the general populace. These were called Riabh.

"What language is that?" Farren interrupted. Trevor shot Farren a 'really?' look from across the living room and Mike doubled back.

"It's Gaelic, also known as the language of the Scots and Irish. Both languages are Gaelic but are two different types of it. The Merrow Folk lived near both places and adapted both of the human speech mixing them together to form what we speak. Mostly we speak in English, but we are taught at a young age to recognize and speak our native language. Now where was I? Ah yes..."

"Wait does each of the seven tribes speak this form of Gaelic?" Farren looked confused. Trevor groaned and mumbled something along the lines of "we are never going to get through this". Mike laughed.

"Alright I'll start there."

~back to omniscient narration~

Originally, the seven tribes lived together in a massive city near the top of the Atlantic Ocean. The ranking system and tribe marking did not exist and power was hereditary. The corruption of the rulers became so apparent that it had split the Murúch population into two differing factions. One for the oldest daughter of the late king, Abaigeal, to become the Queen and the other side for his son, Laighean, who was in charge of the military. The dispute arose when the king died suddenly from a poison he had ingested thus having no time to elect who would rule over the kingdom. Abaigeal being the oldest consented that the throne was hers whereas Laighean discredited her saying that it was uncommon for females to inherit the throne when there was a male heir. The two began rallying forces to get the public's opinion. Amidst the chaos, the populace forgot about the youngest sibling. He was only twelve at the time the dispute began. Rian, the little boy, found this fight among family members for the throne disgusting and he prayed to the moon and sun to help him resolve this situation. He prayed for five years. The only thing keeping the two siblings from using their armies during this time was the Queen. The Queen, their mother was still alive and watching over the throne and getting ready to hand it over to the successor. The Queen couldn't elect the heir only the King, so she could only watch as her two children fought for the power that cost her husband his life.

The Queen died before the sibling rivalry resulted in any deaths. The two siblings met on the battlefield the day after their mother's funeral. These two siblings, once the best of friends, Laighean and Abaigeal found themselves staring at the other's end of a weapon. The battle came to a standstill, both armies unsure what to do with both of their leaders in a deadlock. But poor Rian knew, just days before – the day his mother died – his prayers were answered and he was given the gift of foresight and he knew the only possible way to settle this fight. He had been preparing for this spell since his mother's death and prior to the battle. He first cast the spell to freeze time so the two armies couldn't fight nor his siblings as he finished the final spell. Rian swam to the battlefield to see blades at each other's throats. Neither moving due to his spell. He flicked his tail and reached out for his siblings. The same siblings that had taken care of him while his parents were busy with royal duties. He gave each of them a heartfelt look before he whispered, 'I'm sorry'. He took the dagger, stolen from the crypt that had magical properties from its sheath on his belt. He lifted it, chanting to the deities for the power and strength for what he was about to do.

He swung down piercing his own heart; with his last breath, he said the final line - the line that would change the system forever. The spell propelled his blood to disperse throughout the ocean never changing in thickness. It spread all over to each Murúch. When his body hit the ocean floor a shock wave went through the sea and the real spell kicked in. The freezing spell had worn off but each Murúch was frozen for another reason. Magic was coursing through their bodies. The two siblings had immediately dropped their weapons - Laighean his spear and Abaigeal her sword. They rushed to their fallen brother's side too late. When the magic hit they knew not the spell their brother had woven but it was unbreakable fortified by both the magic of the sun and moon and it had cost Rian his life.

After Rian's blood receded from the sea, the two leaders took into account the amount that died. The number was astonishing. No one had died and those that had any injuries were healed when the spell washed over them. Rian had sacrificed himself to save the Merrow Folk. Both siblings realized that neither was right for the throne and the one who was worthy was now living amongst the currents. They realized later what the spell was that Rian had cast. It had changed the rules of to whom the rank of royalty went. How did they figure this out you ask? Both siblings were visited by the deities and were informed of the spell and its intricacies. It had created seven different scale colors and seven other colors to determine the royalty. The only two that didn't have their scales changed were Laighean and Abaigeal. After the Merrow Folk rounded together in bands with matching scale color, the two siblings left to give their brother a proper funeral and created a memorial site for him that would forever be preserved. The two just disappeared and there are no records of them being seen after the creation of the memorial.

When the next generation of rulers was born, they made their title in honor of the selfless Murúch that prevented catastrophic war. The leaders are now called Riagáin. The seven tribes are scattered all around the world.

The first tribe is the Murchadha, who lived in the North by the Arctic Circle. They are distinguishable by their silver scales. The Murchadha's royals color is azure. They specialize in making of cold current clothing from the hides of sea life they hunted. The Murchadha were also a big provider for blubber and any purpose for it. Many Merrow believe that after living in the Artic for almost four millennia their personalities resemble their environment: cold, and jagged.

The Dubhghaill reigned over the Indian Sea. Their scales were black in color, almost a shade of black nickel. Ruby was their royal color. The Dubhghaill specialized in food, especially spiced foods. They were a rhythmic and carefree people, but you did not want to get on their bad side.

The Caomhánach were the most peaceful of the seven. They didn't believe in rulers so they were governed by something similar to a republic. The Caomhánach Villages was where you could find almost every single race of Murúch. (Well all except one, but we'll come back to that.) Their scales were chrome and they did have royal blood but paid it no mind. Amber was their color, adopted it as their flag color, and created many differing types of jewelry from amber in respect. The Caomhánach were located in the South Pacific Ocean and aside from jewelry, they helped write the laws that governed all of Merrow kind. The Caomhánach Villages were used for meeting places for the Riagáins of the sister tribes.

The Fearghail lived near the Bering Sea and widely recognized for its warriors. They had the best defense system in all the oceans. Their cities were fortresses and the citizens always seemed on edge. One could spot a Fearghail from its bronze scales. They had emerald scales for their royalty. The Fearghail didn't have a monarch but a Military Commander. Each Fearghail was trained from birth to be a warrior.

The Brádaigh lived in the South Atlantic. They were lively folk and their royals had ebony scales. The common folk had brass. Because of their location, trade was a big part of their culture. The biggest market in the Murúch community was in their capital, Lycanse.

The Loinsigh tribe is where Trevor and Mike hail from hence the copper scales. The royal color is violet and the tribe was located in the North Atlantic near Ireland. This tribe is most notable for their hunting skills.

The last tribe is the Stiobhard. Even though they were the smallest tribe, they were by no means weak. They were masters of magic and the most powerful of the seven tribes. They lived in the Baltic Sea and had gold scales-

Farren shifted in his seat.

-Their color for royalty was white. Due to their power, they kept the peace between the tribes. They mostly kept to themselves only leaving their cities for political reasons. Thei-

"Uh…I do have a question." Farren interjected.

"Okay. Ask away." Mike reclined back on to the couch.

"I overheard Trevor and someone yesterday-", Farren gave Trevor an apologetic look, "-he said something along the lines 'we don't have enough people'. What does that mean? You just said that there are seven tribes."

Mike's face became sullen. "I said there were seven tribes, but then something terrible happened: War."

Trevor shifted on the stool before getting up and going to the kitchen.

~Back to the story~

The Stiobhard were the peacekeepers between the others and a necessity at the leaders meeting to settle and diffuse any disputes. However, one year there was no word from their rulers and they did not show to the annual meeting. Each tribe sent men to the Stiobhard capital, Aurum. What they found was devastating. The once golden city was in ruin. The gold that lined the watchtowers and royal house had begun to flake off and the many rubble piles were probably once beautiful buildings. They combed the city expecting to find bodies, but they didn't even find any scales hidden in the sand. That wasn't the only disturbing part of the investigation. When they reached the castle, they found the vault pried open. The vault could only be opened by the Stiobhard royal bloodline. This showed that they had been attacked and most likely killed because the buildings and vault were reinforced with magic. Meaning that the death of the castor and maintainer of the magic spells that protected the city had caused their disarray. Seeing the city that was once the stronghold of the most powerful tribe in shambles, it had the other tribes up in arms.

Each tribe began building up their defense systems against the unknown threat. It wasn't long before rumors started going through the kingdoms that the Fearghail had attacked the Stiobhard to be the most powerful tribe. The Murchadha fell victim to the rumors and believed that the Fearghail would target them next. The Murchadha formed an alliance with Loinsigh to have each other's backs if the Fearghail decided to make a move. Brádaigh learned of this alliance between the Murchadha and Loinsigh and feared for its safety because the Murchadha blamed the Brádaigh for almost starting a war 600 years prior. (But that dear reader is another story.)

~end narration~

Trevor walked back into the living room with three glasses.

"Here ya go." He said handing one to both Farren and his father.

"I think that almost war was stupid." Trevor blurted out as he laid out on the floor. His dad shot him a glare before taking a large swig of the liquid. Farren took a sip to taste it because it looked like water but it smelled like fruit. It had hints of orange and lemon flavor. Mike set the drink down and began the story once more.

~Narration start~

The Brádaigh asked to become allies with the Fearghail. Because of its wealth, it wasn't hard for Brádaigh to help support and finance Fearghail's military. The Dubhghaill had wanted to remain neutral but these hopes were soon dashed when their Riagáin was killed near the Brádaigh's territory. The crown prince swore to avenge his father and declared war promising that the Brádaigh royal family will pay. The Fearghail soon sent its warriors to Dubhghaill. The Loinsighs felt pity for the Dubhghaill royals and the Murchadha knew the feeling all too well. The Murchadha sent its warriors to reinforce Dubhghaill. Loinsigh backed them up. The war was fought on two fronts. One in the Atlantic, the other in the Pacific. The Atlantic Front consisted of Brádaigh versus Loinsigh and Murchadha. While the Pacific Front had Dubhghaill against the Fearghails. Even though Caomhánach remained neutral and didn't support either side, they sustained casualties as well.

The fighting killed travelers. The war was called Cogadh na Marbh, or War of the Dead. The started because of a death and did not end until over 1 million Murúch had died."

~end narration~

Farren choked on his lemon water.

"One million?" he coughed out.

"Yes, one million. The war lasted for 20 years. My ancestors fled to the mainland, not wanting to lose any more family to the dispute. The war ended when the Caomhánach ruler cast a spell he had learned from the moon. It stopped the fighting and erased any ill-feelings."

"Just like Rian." Mike nodded at Farren's comparison.

"Why didn't he do it before?" Farren asked leaning forward. Trevor had propped himself up on his elbows to listen.

"Because the spell took an immense amount of magic power. It took the ruler eight years to store the necessary power. The spell also stripped the current royal families of their ranks in Dubhghaill, Brádaigh, Loinsigh, and Murchadha. The Caomhánach Riagáin, who was elected by the people, paid with his life to stop the war. The survivors of the six kingdoms all journeyed to the city of Raidorn, Caomhánach's capital. Less than 100,000 Murúch survived. Many, like my family, went to the surface to hopefully start anew. The rest stayed in the sea. My family went to the shore of Ireland and intermarried with the humans. The secret of being a Murúch is passed down generation to generation and there is a ceremony at 15 one must to do become an adult in the Murúch community. Only a few are able to participate because the human blood dilutes the Murúch blood."

Mike paused to take a long drink from his flavored water. Farren glanced down and saw that Trevor staring intently at his father.

"A main characteristic is ADHD from the buildup of magical energy throughout one's childhood. Another is this unreal pull to the sea. Some of my family didn't become a Murúch because the magic was too weak but in some cases, it did appear as a spark, granting them access to magic. Hopefully when you regain your memory your heritage will be known and we can identify your tribe."

"I think I already know." Farren mumbled.

"Yeah! I saw his tail colors!" Trevor jumped up form off the floor.

"Wait. Tail? That's impossible." Mike's eyebrows furrowed and mouth became a straight line.

"Well it's not! I saw it dad, it was brown with, get this, gold stripes of scales down the side with white lines of scales running along the gold. Even his normal scales had a gold tint to them!" Trevor spoke with enthusiasm. Mike looked at Farren with awe. Confusion set in before it finally clicked.

'Gold scales means I'm a Stiobhard. What was their colors again? Oh yeah white. Wait white.' Farren thoughts raced.

"Holy shit! I'm a royal!" Farren voiced as he jolted upright.

"Now I'm even more interested in to know who you are. Your family history can solve the age-old question: 'What happened to the Stiobhards?' You know what, Trevor call your uncle. Tell him to look for a spell to regain one's memories after they have been taken by an Alpha." Mike demanded.

Trevor bolted out of the living room and to the phone that was hooked to the wall. He punched in the number and practically yelled at his uncle in excitement. Trevor hung up shortly thereafter. Trevor's dad then asked Farren if he had any more questions.

"Yeah. One. When we, Trevor and I, were underwater, he spoke to me without using his voice or mouth. How?" Mike hummed.

"He used thought projection. It's a simple spell to learn. It takes your thoughts and inputs them into the receiver's mind."

"Oh. Okay." Farren took a long drink from the glass.

"Trevor, why don't you and Farren chill out at the beach while your uncle and I prepare to make the spell?"

"Sure. I mean if you're up for it Farren." Trevor looked at him hopefully.

"Yeah. That's fine." Standing up he realized that he was still in the towel. He had forgotten as he listened to the story. He ears began to feel warm. "Let me just get some new trunks on."

Trevor suppressed a laugh. He was breathing heavily and his face had turned red. Farren stalked the short distance to the guest room and closed the door. He heard a loud laugh followed by a string of chuckles. Grumbling to himself, Farren ripped off the towel and pulled on black trunks from the drawer. He opened the door quickly. Throwing the towel at Trevor's head and missing, he ground out, "Let's go to the beach."

The two boys left the house with a wave and headed towards the public beach. Trevor's dad smiled as he watched the two teens walk away. Farren was walking quickly, while his son, Trevor, walked languidly still laughing at the boy in front of him. Farren was thinking about his past since he had a crash course on the history of the Murúchs and if he knew anyone here. Little did the two know that a blast from the past was waiting for them at the beach.

* * *

**AN: This has been my favorite chapter to write thus far. Idk why maybe because I had the chance to make up history and it be okay. Anyways, have a great day/night! Until next week**

**Bluetears out~**


	9. Chapter 8: Mistaken Identity

**AN: So I changed my penname. It came to me when I told someone to name a fandom to see if I was in it. To which they did then proceeded to call me a mixing pot of fandoms. Ha so viola! New name. Needed it for my next FF anyway. The other one was kinda old and didn't make sense. Okay onto the story. So this chapter there is someone in here that came in last minute. This has some action but Chapter 9 is where it will be at along with 10 and 11. Those will be the intense chapters. Thanks to all that followed and favorited. **

**Warnings~**

**Not beta'd. (I need to get one)**

**Disclaimer- OH the things I'd do if I owned Teen wolf. Derek would still drive the Camaro. js.**

* * *

Chapter 8: Mistaken Identity

Scott didn't know he had fallen asleep until he was jerked from his dreams when the air took on a salty smell. His hearing kicked in before his eyes could open. The music blasted into his ears causing his body to sit up violently. He stifled a yawn as he stretched in the little car. The radio was turned down and Scott realized that he had fallen asleep with his ear next to the speaker. No wonder it was so loud when he was brought from unconsciousness.

"About time you woke up," Lydia stated staring off watching the other cars. The traffic had picked up the closer they got to the beach.

"It's winter time. Why are there more people _going to_ the beach?" Malia sounded tired. She had laid back across the rear seat. She was reading from a PSAT book in order to study for the test.

"The beaches around here stay kind of warm, the water is still cold. Many come to get tans. There aren't enough to cause problems while driving!' Scott said while Lydia weaved past the slower cars.

"Tans?" Malia raised an eyebrow.

"It's California." Lydia deadpanned.

"We must be getting close. The sea salt smell is getting stronger. Are we near the exit?" Scott asked trying to change the subject.

"It's the next exit."

"Good." Malia mumbled so low Scott almost missed it.

The silence that followed was tense. Only the sound of the female automated voice from the GPS was in the car announcing that their exit was near.

'Seems like I'm not the only one who's on edge with worry.' Scott thought to himself.

Their exit soon came up and it was another thirty minutes before they were in the small beach town. Malia perked up in the back. The GPS announced that they were close to their destination. When they pulled into the parking lot of the Red Roof Inn, Scott noticed Stiles' jeep right away.

"Park next to it." Scott demanded.

When the vehicle stilled he jumped out of the car. He sniffed the air. The scent of Stiles was faded, but still there. That brought him a small comfort to know that his best friend was still alive. He heard the two climb out the driver's side.

He called over his shoulder, "The scent is here but it's a couple of days old."

"Well we aren't that far from the beach, he could've parked the car and walked everywhere." Lydia pointed out before opening the trunk to grab both her and Malia's bags. She tossed one to Malia who caught it easily.

"That's true." Scott sighed.

He reopened the passenger side door of her car and grabbed the duffel off the floor. When he stood back up, he noticed the fishing pole in the jeep.

'What is he doing if he's not fishing?' Scott thought while walking towards the front desk. Lydia and Malia were talking to the concierge. He picked up their conversation.

"We are here to meet up with a friend. He had already checked in four days ago."

"Name?" The woman didn't look up from the computer.

"Stilinski." She looked up for a moment, lips pursed. Shock could be seen in her eyes for a brief moment before they settled on indifference.

"Can you spell that for me?" Lydia sighed, one hand resting on her hip while the other was resting on the counter.

"S-T-I-L-I-N-S-K-I." She said pausing after every few letters to make sure that she typed it in correctly.

"Ah yes. He's in room A22. Now will all four of you be staying in one room?" She looked back up from the screen. Her blonde curls took on a blue hue from the light emitting from the computer screen.

"No. Two rooms. One for me and her." Lydia pointed to herself and Malia. "He will need a key for room A22."

"How long are you staying?" Her gray eyes looked concerned.

"Two days."

"That'll be $120.73."

Lydia slid her debit card across the laminated countertop. Malia's nose was scrunched, no doubt smelling what he could. The over use of perfume and cleaning product to hide something. Scott leaned on the counter, elbows resting against it. She gave Lydia three cards. She point to them.

"These two are for room A24. This one is for A22. Checkout is before 1 p.m. on Sunday."

Scott grabbed his card and headed to the rooms. Stiles' Jeep was parked directly in front of his motel room. The banshee and werecoyote walked past him to their room next door.

"We'll be out in thirty minutes to walk to the beach." Lydia told him before opening the door and dragging Malia in with her.

He chuckled while he fiddled with the key card and opened the door. When he opened the door, the chuckles were trapped in his throat. The smell alone made him release a growl. The door slammed open, he knew it was Malia. The room was a mess. Sheets on the floor and clothes tossed everywhere. Now, Stiles is a messy person but there was always a method to his madness.

This was just chaos.

The scent of Stiles' fear as potent, but he could pick out another, a foreign yet familiar one. His eyes flashed red when he growled out-

"Werewolves."

* * *

Farren and Trevor arrived at the beach a few minutes later. Trevor had stopped laughing a seconds before and had caught up to Farren who was still miffed. When they reached the beach, the two had started arguing about what to do.

"Come on! Beach Volleyball never hurt anyone." Trevor whined to Farren. Farren paused in looking for a good spot to put down their stuff to give him a pointed glare.

"Maybe if you're a teenage girl." Farren retorted. Trevor scrunched his face.

"Well what do you suppose we do?" Trevor shot back.

"Okay. Humor me. With whom are we going to play with? And with what ball and net?" Farren replied sarcasm dripping off every word.

"We could gather up some people from around the beach…" His voice died out when he noticed that there was only families and old couples at the beach.

"Fine." He grumbled.

"How about we go for a swim?" Farren suggested.

"What?! No that'll give us away!" Trevor harshly whispered. His eyes darted around only relaxing when he didn't notice anyone in particular listening in.

"Okay." Farren drawled the word out scanning the area for some source of entertainment.

"There's an arcade down by the restaurant." Trevor suggested.

"I owe you so much money." Farren whined as Trevor walked towards the arcade. He let out a laugh through his nose. Trevor began to explain how the legs form the tail in hushed tones on the way to the arcade.

"-amazingly it only hurts the first time, like your body knows it natural and blo-" Farren almost ran into Trevor who had been walking backwards while talking to him. His eyes widened and he spun around abnormally fast. Farren started to turn around but Trevor stopped him.

"Don't look. Those are werewolves behind us." Panic had begun to creep into his voice.

"What? How do you know?" Farren quickened his pace to match Trevor's. Trevor looked over his shoulder then back at Farren.

"The way they are. The one in the front is looking for someone – by smell – it looks like. And another her eyes are glowing looking for said someone." Trevor said in hushed tones.

"How can you see that?"

"We, Murúch, can focus our hearing, smell, sight, or taste at will. Only one at a time and for so far. We can turn it off whereas they" – he motioned behind him – "can't. Only to become desensitized." Farren's curiosity got the better of him and looked, focusing all of his attention to sight.

There were three of them. A dark youth with styled hair was in the front and it seemed like his jaw was lopsided. A red head was in the center doing something on her phone. The one in the back had hair that went from dark brown to blonde and stopped every so often to scan the beaches.

"Wow. I can see her eyes they glow such a bright blue." His gaze then wondered back to the male leader. Inhaling loudly at seeing his eyes.

"What does it mean when their eyes glow a blood red?" His voice shaky from the nerves. Trevor picked up his pace almost running.

"Shit. That's the alpha. That has to be him. He's the one who did that to you." – he paused his eyes becoming hard – "His eyes weren't red earlier that mean they must've found who they're looking for." Trevor cursed again. Farren readjusted his towel on his shoulder.

"Who are they looking for?"

"If I had to guess…You." He pointed to Farren. Trevor stole one last glance and yelled, "Run!" before sprinting off. Farren dropped the towel in surprise and sprinted as fast as he could. Farren was close on Trevor's heels as they neared the businesses at the end of the pier.

"This way! It'll throw them off our scent." Farren nodded. He glanced back at his pursuers. Farren faltered a moment when he saw the desperation and hurt on their faces.

"Stiles," he heard and his heart as if it was going to break.

"Come on!" Trevor yelled before rounding a corner and pulling Farren with him. The two dashed into a doorway.

Farren found himself in the back of a kitchen. They weaved through the counters and chefs. Farren mumbled 'Sorry' and 'excuse me' more times, than he could count before they were in an office. They slammed the door shut. The two heaved heavily while leaning on the door before realizing where they were. The room's previous occupant looked up from the book he was reading. The glasses were perched precariously on his nose.

"I see that you tow made it here quicker than I thought." The man said closing the book.

"Sorry Uncle Jaime, but there were werewolves chasing us." Trevor got out between breaths.

The man's – Jaime's – face hardened at the mention of the wolves.

"Did they follow you in?"

"No, but I don't think it will be long." Farren stated. He had somewhat caught his breath back. Trevor looked at him questioningly. Farren just shrugged.

"Since we can't do the spell here, and there are werewolves prowling around the shop. I am going to have to cloak the three of us." Trevor's uncle opened a drawer to take out a knife.

He drew it across his palm while whispering some words in Latin. The blood took on a bluish hue. He dipped two fingers – his forefinger and middle – in the pool of blood in his left hand. He walked to Trevor fingers raised. Farren wrinkled his nose at the sight of the discolored blood and the thought of blood (someone else's at that) touching him. He wrote some symbol that contained a backwards 'L' and squiggle going through the middle on Trevor. He finished the symbol with two little wisps branching of the top of the 'L' going to the left. Farren expected the boy to disappear right away, but he didn't. However, the longer Farren looked at him the more his brain lost the grip on who or where Trevor was. Like Farren could see him but the moment his eyes moved from him, he forgot. (Which did happen once or twice in the duration of his line of sight being broken by Trevor's uncle.)

The feeling of not want to look at Trevor subsided when Jaime stepped away.

'The spell must no work on one who is already cloaked,' Farren concluded.

He watched with rapt attention as Trevor drew the symbol on his uncle. After he finished, his uncle gave him a tissue to wipe off the blood. His uncle cleaned off his hands the best he could, but there was still bits of dried blood stuck to his skin. Farren noticed that the wound had vanished not even a scar marred the lines of his palm.

"Do we heal fast or is that just the spell?" Farren inquired to the man who had thrown the stained handkerchief into the garbage.

"We heal 3x the rate of a human. It's fast but not extremely so, but spells that require a blood usually have a healing aspect to it so it doesn't leave the castor too terribly drained." His uncle explained.

"Come on. If you were being pursued then the return of your memories is of the upmost importance." Jaime practically dragged the two teens out of his office.

* * *

**AN: so another chapter. Can you guess who the mystery person is? I'm also debating on whether or not about adding the POV of the other Pack. Things to get ya thinking about next week. Will stiles and the Pack reunite? Will Melissa's Pack strike now knowing Stiles is alive? Or will Scott and company being here prevent her from striking? Will Stiles regain his memories? How will the Pack react to Stiles' new powers and his torture? **

**Find out next week on Reawakened Chapter 9! (title in the works)**

**Fandoms_United out~**


	10. Chapter 9: The Return and Reunion

**AN: Okay so this update is early, but I'll be busy this weekend and wanted to give ya'll the chapter before I go on vacation. I won't update next week so in two weeks ya'll will get two chapters, Chapter 10 and 11. Those are fun chapters. Thanks again to all that have followed and favorited and to the new ones. All of you make me happy because I'm not the only one that enjoys this story. **

**Warnings~**

**Not beta'd**

**Disclaimer- Oh the things I'd do if I owned Teen Wolf...hmmm Ethan would've stayed. **

* * *

Chapter 9: The Return and Reunion

Jaime was right in saying that the werewolves had hung around. The male was pacing in front of the doors, moving out of the way for people entering or exiting the establishment. The red-haired female was sitting on a bench reading over a newspaper, but her eyes would dart up and around in search of something – him. The other girl must have been guarding the back. They had blocked all known exits – well known to them. Uncle Jaime led them to a door that opened into the neighboring shop where it would be easier to slip past the werewolf trio. Farren followed behind Trevor and Jaime slowly creeped along.

The two had stopped by the glass door peering out through the glass to watch the watchers. They waited until the werewolves didn't look in their direction whenever someone left either shop. They slipped out of the shop when the male had stopped by the door to the restaurant and the girl had her nose in the newspaper. Farren winced at the sound of the bell, which was amplified by fear and adrenaline, hitting against the door causing a shrill note to fill the air.

Jaime slipped into the crowd that was passing by right at that moment. Trevor and Farren darted out of the tourist shop, following suit. Farren glanced back over his shoulder every few meters to ensure that they were not being followed. They picked up the pace after hitting the beach. By the time they reached the house, they were out of breath having sprinted the last mile and a half out of fear. Scrambling up the steps and through the door, Farren spotted the concerned look on Mike's face. He was standing frozen with a towel wrapped around his head and boxers. He stared at the door that had burst open in confusion and called out –

"Jaime? Trevor? Is that you?"

Trevor heard the question as he stepped through the doorway and answered.

"Yeah." Mike's eyes darted around and his brain seemed to kick in, processing that he was still in boxers with the door wide open. He immediately sprinted up the stairs.

Jaime came into the house slamming the door behind him. He wiped his hands on his khakis leaving red smears. He turned on his heel and began to chant something to the door, which started to glow a purple around its edges. Farren was transfixed with the spell.

'This is the world I'm in now.' He thought as the door regain its natural dark wood hue. Mike had emerged from the stairs moments later in khaki shorts and a blue button up shirt, a new towel now around his shoulders. Trevor was close behind his father with his hands full of vials.

'When did he go upstairs?' Farren wondered. Trevor nodded in Farren's direction causing both Mike and Jaime to look in his direction. Jaime was looking directly at him whereas Mike was staring just to the left of Farren. 'The spell must still be active.' He looked at Trevor's forehead closely, noticing that the sigil had been wiped off. Catching the idea, Farren walked to the kitchen to wet a paper towel and wipe off the blood, Farren repressed a shudder at that thought. When he arrived back to the living room, Jaime was talking to Trevor and Mike. Trevor had neatly placed the vials on the bar countertop.

"We need to start this as soon as possible. The spell only lasts two hours and I don't want the boy here-" Jaime patted Farren on the shoulder, "-to be out of it. We will need an extra set of hands. Hopefully it doesn't take that long for your memories to return."

Jaime walked around Farren and up to the bar. Mike went into the kitchen to grab a bowl for them to use. After Mike had placed the bowl on the counter, Jaime began muttering more Latin phrases. He grabbed a vial of blue liquid and one filled with a golden liquid. He mixed the two in the bowl. They never mixed, almost if he was trying to mix oil and water. The two colors swirled together causing the blue to be brighter in comparison to the gold. Jaime looked at Farren.

"We need your blood."

"Okay…" Farren said hesitantly. He quickly glanced at Mike and Trevor but Mike had his back to Farren rummaging through the drawers. Trevor was watching the procedure with rapt attention. Farren stuck his hand out for Jaime to take ahold.

As Jaime grabbed his hand Farren asked, "Why my blood?"

Trevor answered instead of Jaime or Mike.

"Werewolves have three colored eyes: red for the alpha, gold for a pure beta, and blue for a tainted beta, or one who has taken an innocent life."

Fear shot through his system remembering the bright blue of the she-wolf from earlier.

"To regain memories that an alpha took we need your blood. Its power along with the two other liquids can overpower the alpha's power. The gold substance is made from the sap of a pure nemeton and blessed by a Celtic High Priestess. That was difficult to make, well according to grandfather's notes. It replaces the pure beta aspect. The blue one is made from the hairs of a wolf. That one was easier to get and the ritual must be done during a lunar eclipse. Your blood is needed to reverse the blood spell of the alpha. We also need an aspect of yourself to regain yourself." Farren let out a shaky breath when Jaime grabbed the obsidian knife from Mike who now leaned over the counter to watch.

Jaime looked at him and gave him a reassuring nod before he slashed open his forearm. Farren sucked air in through his teeth at the pain. His blood flowed out like a river down his arm and pooled in the bowl. Jaime mixed all three together in the bowl with the knife as Trevor handed Farren a towel to press against his arm to staunch the bleeding. He dipped his fore fingers into the potion, which had changed into a transparent purple liquid. He spread it onto Farren forehead.

The middle looked like a trident, but it was missing the middle peg. Two lines curved around the sides of the make shift trident and then branched out in opposing directions, almost reaching the sides of his forehead. Two smaller, straighter lines were drawn underneath them.

"Semper memento." Jaime spoke before a sharp pain ran through Farren's brain. He swayed on his feet and grabbed the island for support. He had to close his eyes at the pain; it felt as if his brain was splitting in two. He had dropped the towel on the ground, warm blood started to drip down his hand. The pain intensified tenfold starting at the base of his neck. He felt four hands on his arms as his legs gave out. Words that were spoken came to Farren sounding muffled. He was gone by the time his knees hit the ground.

* * *

Scott took a deep breath trying to distinguish between his best friend and the enemy werewolf. Lydia was searching the hotel room for any other clues while Malia was copying Scott. Scott made a triumphant noise when he locked onto the scent and started to follow it out the room. Malia was right on his tail, but Scott held up a hand.

"Stay here with Lydia. Protect her. I'll call if anything happens." Scott turned on his heel and walked out the door. The werewolf's scent mingled with Stiles'. Scott followed the scents out of the parking lot, but it soon disappeared at the main road.

'Dammit. They must've gotten into a car.' Scott thought as he kicked the curb. He trudged back to the hotel room. Before he could even get to the door, Malia burst out concern decorating her features. She looked at him with pleading eyes. After a few seconds, Scott looked away and shook his head. His hearing noticed the quiet whine that emanated from the were coyote. He followed her back into the room where Lydia was talking to someone on the phone.

"-ill find him."

Scott heard yelling over the phone. The voice oddly familiar.

"Sheriff." Lydia said trying to calm him down. Scott outwardly winced knowing that they are in a hell of a lot of trouble. He listened in on the rest of the conversation.

"-be going to be there as soon as I can. If you find him and the people that did this just," Scott heard a sigh, "Just make sure he is okay and leave some of them for me." The Sheriff's voice ended in a growl. He ended the call and Scott knew the man was furious. Glancing over at Malia who was sporting a smug look, he grimaced.

"Don't say it." Scott grumbled.

Lydia began explaining what the Sheriff told her even though she knew they had heard, or at least one of them.

"Okay. So he's pissed and is on his way here."

They each shared a look. Scott was the first to speak.

"Let's go and ask around town to see if anyone has seen or can help locate Stiles." Both Lydia and Malia were taken aback. Scott eyed them.

"What?" The two females shared a look.

"That's a good plan." Lydia's voice had a hint of shock to it. Scott scoffed and left the room. Malia laughed following her Alpha. Lydia was the last to leave grabbing a key and locking the door on the way out. Scott and Malia were hanging around Stiles' car. They talked it out figuring they should start with the beach.

"It seems like the best place. We can ask if anyone has seen him."

"Yeah. A pale kid on a beach is pretty noticeable." Scott joked. Malia lightly hit him on his arm to show her disapproval but the corners of her mouth were turned up trying to suppress a smile.

"Fortunately that is a good thing now."

The trio started walking to the beach. They figured they should start at the Boat Rental Place where they knew Stiles had been. They walked into the store. Lydia was first with the two supernaturals were using their noses to sniff out if he had been here. Lydia made a beeline for the cashier who was reading a boat magazine. She crinkled her nose.

'Really?' She thought as she eyes the male behind the counter. He was fairly tan and lanky, the yellow and blue employee shirt too big on him. His dark brown hair was swept to the side and it was obvious that he was fresh out of college. She turned on the charm.

"Excuse me." He jerked his head up from the magazine and dog-eared a page before closing it and moving it under the counter.

"Is there anything you need help with?" He asked politely.

"Yes. We are looking for a friend. He seems to have lost his phone so we can't contact him and tell him we are here. Have you seen him?" She pulled up a picture of Stiles on her phone and showed it to the cashier, Andrew.

"Uh. Yeah he was in here two days ago and rented a boat. He was gone the majority of the day and he just barely made it back it time before the sky opened up." Andrew looked at both Scott and Malia who were standing firmly next to Lydia giving him a glare.

"Did he say anything about where he was going?" Andrew gave her a pointed look.

"He zoomed through here like a bat out of hell. I just barely saw him leave out the door. So, no I don't know where he was going." Lydia gave him a tight smile.

"Well thank you anyways."

They left the boat rental place with more questions than answers. They skipped over the beach store – Stiles wouldn't be caught dead in that place – heading to the beach when Scott caught something. He froze eyes flashing red and a low growl escaping his throat.

"What is it? Is it the werewolf?" Lydia's voice was a mixture of anger and fear. Scott opened his mouth to speak but Malia beat him to it.

"It's Stiles' scent." Her voice broke, hope seeping through the cracks.

Scott sniffed the air again; pinpoint his best friend's unique and familiar smell. There was something off about it, but Scott pushed that thought to the back of his mind to focus on keeping the scent trail. Malia began looking back and forth, scanning the area for her boyfriend's profile. Scott picked up the pace following his nose.

Lydia's phone buzzed and she looked at it while trying to keep up with the 'weres'. It was Kira.

Kira: Any luck? Scott is not answering his phone.

Lydia: Sorry. He left it in the room. We are looking for him now. Scott believes to have located his scent and we are following it.

* * *

Malia saw him first. He was walking with another boy. Malia had to do a double take because the person she saw only slightly resembled her Stiles. This boy was tan – unnaturally so considering he had only been at the beach for four days. His was no longer just jet-black, but it seemed to have lightened. Oddly, in the light some parts looked like gold. He looked over his shoulder and she saw his face. Even though his facial features screamed fear, she was entranced by his eyes, which seemed to have more of a red and golden brown tint than before. Both he and his companion sprinting off broke her from her daze.

"The hell?" Scott questioned before he sprinted off to catch his friend.

Fortunately, for werewolf speed, they caught up to the two by the time they hit the pier.

"Stiles!" Scott yelled desperation evident in his cry. Stiles faltered in following his friend around the corner. He looked conflicted, but he soon disappeared as he was yanked around the bend. Scott slowed down to a stop as Stiles' scent dispersed.

"What the hell was that?" Malia ground out between breaths.

"I don't know." Scott was torn feeling anger or feeling hurt that his friend ran.

"It looked like he didn't recognize you." Lydia stated hunched over to catch her breath.

"I know this is going to bad, but it is the only possibility. What if the Alpha took his memories?" Lydia and Malia cringed at the angry growl that emanated from Scott.

"They will pay."

* * *

The trio waited out by the front of the building that Stiles had escaped into to get away from them. A pang went through Scott's heart at the thought that Stiles had ran from them. As if, they were the enemy. His eyes stung with tears but he blinked them back. Lydia sat down on the bench outside the building. Because she was the only unenhanced runner, it took her longer to catch her breath. Malia was pacing, Scott could smell the sharp scent of her tears over the salty sea. He was the first to speak.

"What the hell?" Scott growled.

"Why did he forget us?" Malia kept pacing in front of the bench. Lydia slumped onto the bench. She took deep breaths and rested her head in her hands.

"I don't know, but this seems pretty supernatural to me." Lydia sighed. She looked up and spotted a newspaper box. She got an idea.

"Scott do you have a dollar on you?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Give it to me." Both Scott and Malia gave her a look.

"What? I need it." She held out her hand. Scott sighed and dug through his pockets slapping the dollar bill into her hand.

"Thanks."

She stood up slowly and walked to the box. As she deposited the money, Scott walked back and forth across the front entrance. He sniffed the air trying to sift through the many different aromas to find Stiles'. So far, he was still in the building – a restaurant if the intoxicating smells were anything to go by. Lydia sat back down onto the bench flicking open the newspaper.

"He's still in there." Scott nodded his head in the direction of the building. She peered at him over the paper.

"Malia go scout out the back. We need to catch him if we are to figure out this situation." Lydia ordered. Malia looked to Scott who only nodded. She huffed and rounded the corner.

'Scott keep watch. I'll see if there has been anything unusual." Lydia's attention went back to the newsprint. Scott turned and paced his earlier path stopping every few seconds to sniff the air and watch the door.

This continued for about 15 minutes before Lydia found something. She whispered a triumphant, "Got it," and Scott sprinted to her. She pointed to an article. Its headline read, 'Local finds body on beach.' Below it read, 'Local resident found mutilated body on beach. The third one this month. The police are investigating, not sure as to what is the cause.'

"Look here." Lydia pointed to a picture of a boy, the same boy that was with Stiles moments before. The caption read, 'Trevor Abrams found the body during his morning run.' Scott growled sensing foul play.

"Go get Malia while I find out where this Trevor lives."

Scott sprinted to the back to get Malia who was scowling at the dumpster in the back of the restaurant.

"We got it." Malia jumped from her relaxed position to run to Lydia. Scott not far behind. Lydia was leaning against the light pole.

"What took you so long?" She smirked waving her phone the newspaper tucked under her arm.

* * *

They arrived at the white and cream house, more like a mansion, that was surrounded by trees. At first, the trio missed it but Lydia pointed it out to the two 'weres' who had walked right past it. Twice. Scott and Malia scented the air finding nothing but the sea. Both looked at the other in confusion. They cautiously approached the house. Scott couldn't hear any heartbeats inside, but still knocked on the door.

Even if someone did answer the door, he wasn't expecting this. His heart caught in his throat. He heard both Lydia and Malia take in a sharp breath.

"I see you found the house." Stiles gave them a half smile.

"Come in. We have lost to talk about."

* * *

**AN: DUN DUN DUN! They have met! Finally, it only took 9 chapters. Thanks for reading and if you have le time write a review! Until two weeks from this Saturday. **

**FandomsUnited out~**


	11. Chapter 10: Of Lies and Deceit

**AN: okay don't hate me too much. There are many things that have occurred within the past two weeks. 1) I was with my grandparents who have no wifi and 2) I had major writer's block, like I couldn't even think of a plot line for this chapter. But I felt that I owed you guys this chapter so I wrote it all day today and didn't stop until I finished it. And last chapter I put Cassie instead or Carrie. ooops, my bad. Hope this chapter makes up for it because there are definitely lies, deceits, feels (hopefully), and explaining in this chapter. It** **is**** over 5k words (without the author's notes) just because I felt that I owe you guys a long chapter since I have been MIA for two more weeks than originally thought and I just couldn't find a point to stop. Thanks to those that have followed and favorited this story. Thanks. **

**~Warnings: Unbeta'd. Sometimes I read my chapter and I'm like was I high when I wrote this? Oh god the grammar mistakes. Don't know how you guys put up with it. **

**Disclaimer: Oh the things I'd do if I owned Supernatural...I mean Teen Wolf, uh well I would tell you guys Stiles' real first name.**

* * *

Chapter 10: Of Lies and Deceit

Scott stared at the figure in front of him. It was definitely Stiles according to the smell, but he looked so different. His hair had lightened with copper and gold highlights in the sun, whereas before it had been black with occasional brown highlights. His skin had darkened at least four shades, his friend no longer deathly pale, but now a healthy color. His eyes had changed, too. Before the Nogistune they were a whiskey color in the sun with tiny flecks of amber in them near the pupil, but then they changed to a dull dark brown. The eyes he was looking at now reminded him of the old Stiles. They were now a brown honey color with gold flecks peppering the outside of the iris and the area near the pupil took on a red hue. The outfit practically screamed Stiles with the loud top and dull bottoms with neutral shoes.

After a few seconds, Scott's shock wore off and relief washed over him. He was the first to respond by tackling his friend who had been standing there with a slight smile gracing his features. Scott tightly hugged Stiles as he let the various emotions race through his system. He squeezed Stiles as if he would disappear and Scott was so glad when he felt Stiles' arms tighten in response. Malia soon joined in the hug. Both supernatural creatures scenting and smelling their fellow pack member. While Malia and Scott were trying to squeeze the life out of Stiles, Lydia waited her turn by introducing the pack to the three figures lounging in the house. She stepped around the hug-fest and met the man that had walked forward. He was wearing khakis with a blue and white horizontal striped polo. He extended his hand as he spoke.

"Hello. I'm Michael Abrams. That's my son, Trevor Abrams and my brother, Jaime Abrams." Trevor gave a small wave when his name was announced whereas Jaime only gave a minute nod. Trevor was wearing an orange shirt with red trunks; Lydia scrunched her nose in slight disgust at the coloring. However, it seemed that his Uncle had good taste; he was wearing black slacks with a violet dress shirt with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a Rolex adorned his wrist.

Scott had released Stiles and stood next to Lydia to study the trio. Lydia shook his hand stating her name. Scott had reached out to grab Michael's hand when it was offered.

"I'm Scott McCall and Malia Tate is over there crushing my friend, Stiles Stilinski. However, you already knew that." Scott mumbled the last bit looking a bit embarrassed.

Stiles and Malia had let go of each other and Stiles walked over with Malia following close behind as if she was guarding the boy. Stiles stood in the middle of the two groups, but before he could speak, Lydia briskly walked forward and gave him a hug. It was a quick hug, but sweet nonetheless.

"So now that you guys have met one another, I hope that there won't be any other misunderstandings." Stiles said as he rotated in a circle to address the whole group.

"Stiles?" Scott whispered harshly.

"Hmm?"

"Could you come here for a second? I have a question that needs answered."

"Sure thing." Stiles stepped up to Scott looking slightly down to address his friend.

Now, that the pleasantries were out of the way, Scott tugged Stiles down and whispered into his ear.

"Why was there a foreign werewolf smell all over your hotel room? 'Cause those guys over there smell completely normal." A small growl emanated from Malia at the statement. Stiles quickly glanced at the others.

"Scott. They know." Stiles straightened himself to look into the eyes of his friend.

"How?" Surprisingly, Malia spoke up.

Mike and Jaime glanced at one another then to Stiles, who cleared his throat.

"They're like me." Stiles knew it was the truth, but he was still nervous. Could werewolves detect half-truths?

"What do you mean?" Lydia narrowed her eyes, studying each expression. Jaime stepped up to answer her.

"We can all use magic."

"Like a witch." Scott deadpanned and Trevor wrinkled his nose.

"You know that you guys' assumptions will get all of you hurt."

"Probably." Stiles shrugged as Scott stiffened.

"Is that a threat?" Scott growled.

"Oh no. Just some advice. Stiles said something similar when he found out." Trevor backpedaled; he did not want an angry Alpha to attack him.

"Well we're not exactly witches. Remember what Deaton does?"

"Yeah…" Scott was still unsure.

"It's like that only just more chanting and spells. And not so cryptic."

"Okay." Scott still sounded confused despite his statement. Lydia sighed; Stiles had a unique way of putting things.

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows for a second before his face lit up. He clapped his hands together.

"Alrighty. To answer your question, you will need to sit down because it's a long story."

Lydia did not need to be told twice because she strode over to the armchair and claimed it. The other two looked unsure of where to sit. Michael stood up, motioned to the newly vacated couch, and left for the kitchen to grabs drinks. Trevor made a noise that was a cross between a sigh and a groan before following suit. Jaime walked to the door announcing that he needed to get back to work. He gave the occupants of the room a tight smile before in one fluid movement; he opened the door and walked out. Stiles turned back to his friends when the door closed with a soft click.

He noticed that Trevor was leaning on the other side of the bar peering out of the kitchen.

"What is he doing?" Stiles jerked his chin in the direction he assumed Trevor's father was.

Trevor huffed out a laugh. "He's doing what he always done when there is going to be a story telling; he's making flavored water."

"Ah…Awesome. That stuff was good." Stiles nodded and turned back to the living room. He looked at his friends whose features were laced with concern.

"What happened?" Scott softly asked.

"Well…I-I just needed a break. Beacon Hills was starting to become suffocating. Even though it wasn't me, I can still s-". Stiles cleared his throat. "I-I still feel guilty for what happened." He wrung his hands together and took a deep breath. Malia meekly raised her hand.

A small chuckle escaped his lips that chased away his nervousness and Stiles nodded to her.

"Why the beach?" Scott stiffened in his chair eyes widening fractionally. His gaze locked with Stiles' as Stiles looked around.

Phantom pain shot through his heart as some memories came to the surface. He looked away from Scott and quickly glanced at Lydia who had become concerned. He moved his gaze to Malia who had become confused because she could not decipher the meaning behind the quick exchange of looks around her.

"The beach was my mother's favorite place to visit."

He did not know who was more surprised, Scott or him, when the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. Stiles figured that now it was out he had better tell the backstory.

"When she died," Stiles voice cracked as he said 'when', "We came here to honor her memory. She and I always loved the beach – even during the dead of winter. We would always come to a beach around here whenever my mom felt like she needed peace. I kind of adopted the same thing, you know learned behavior from a parent kind of thing. My dad always would come with us, but he would stay out of the water, especially during the winter." He smiled and closed his eyes as a memory fought its way to the front of his mind.

He missed the perplexed look that the trio shared at his last statement.

_Flashback_

Stiles watched as the snow flew past his window. He had both hands gripping the edge of the ledge to keep his hands somewhat as he leaned on the window. His mom had just told him that they would be at the beach shortly. He continued to stare out the window trying to catch a glimpse of the yellow and white sand he had grown to love. He quickly glanced at his mom who even though had the back of her head facing him; he knew that she was doing the same thing.

He started fidgeting when he finally caught a glimpse of the elusive sight before it vanished again behind the buildings that covered the area next to the road. Too excited at finally seeing the beach after a year, he did not notice the hushed conversation that was taking place in the front cab.

"We can't keep coming here; it could make you sicker." Stiles father stated.

"I know, but I want to give him some happy memories before I get worse and can't leave the hospital." She whispered wringing her hands together. The two adults shared a soulful look, before Claudia broke it and looked to her son.

He counted the falling ice crystals as if he was measuring the time in an attempt to make it pass by faster. Stiles had stopped counting when he reached over a hundred, his limited schooling preventing him from counting any higher.

Shortly after he had ceased his counting, the car slowed to a stop and his dad shut it off. His excitement rose and he turned his head to look into his mother's eyes, which were twinkling with that same delight. She exited the car gracefully and opened Stiles' door. He gripped the seatbelt that was strapped against his chest. He waited patiently as expert fingers nimbly unlocked his restraints. He pushed himself out of the seat into his mother's awaiting arms.

"You are almost too big for me to do this." She said as she poked his nose.

She placed him on her hip and closed the door. Its soft thud lost to the roar of the winter waves. His dad had opened the back to pull out the chairs. She yelled at him over the wind.

"We will be over there!" He responded with a wave.

She broke into a smile, which her son mimicked. She looked at the crashing waves and Stiles turned to follow her gaze.

"Race you there?" She had a mischievous smile on her face.

"Put me down!" Stiles yelled excitedly.

She gently placed him on the ground. Stiles bolted forward as fast as his little legs could carry him.

"I'm going to beat you there!" His laughs were ringing through the air, his mother not far behind.

"Oh no you won't!"

Her husband was closing the hatch to the back of the vehicle when he heard their laughter. He chuckled and shook his head at his family's weird habits of playing in the water during winter. However, he will be sitting on the lawn chair reading a book. He grumbled about how he will be the one sick for the next week even though he has bundled up whereas, his son and wife will tease him about not wearing enough layers throughout the whole week. He sighed and opened the book.

_End Flashback_

Scott pulled Stiles from the memory saying his name.

"Earth to Stiles." Scott yelled as he waved his hand through the air.

"He does that quite often." Trevor noted from the kitchen.

"Shove it!" Stiles said in mock anger.

He crossed his arms over his chest before he began again.

"After the whole mess with the Nogistune, I wanted some time alone before going on a mission to find Derek. He's gone missing." He supplied the anecdote for Trevor who nodded in thanks. "So I came here, but I wasn't here long. The next day, actually a couple of hours after I talked to you, Scott, I was taken by the Alpha's pack here. She questioned me about our Pack, but I refused and in retaliation she took my memories."

Stiles skipped over the gory details not wanting a vengeful Alpha rampaging through the town. Another reason for his secrecy is that his wounds are all gone, not even a scar remained. Not wanting to out the people that saved him without their permission, he stuck to speaking in half-truths and leaving out some details here or there.

"I regained my memories because of my powers overpowering the Alpha's hold on them."

Stiles quickly glanced at Trevor who ducked into the kitchen. Lydia narrowed her eyes at the exchange. He looked at each of his fellow pack members' faces gauging their expressions before taking a deep breath.

"Trevor found me and took me under his roof. He helped me massively because he gave me clothes and helped me through the days without my memories. He even t-". Stiles was interrupted by Scott's phone ringing, quite loudly. Scott winced and scrambled to find his phone. His face became pale when he looked at the caller id. He hesitated before he answered the phone.

"Hey."

Stiles could not hear the other side of the conversation, nor did he want to from the looks of Scott's face. It took a few seconds before it clicked for Stiles. He leaned over snatching the phone from his hand.

"-gone just like my son. Now where are you!?" Stiles tried to stop himself from laughing, but one got past his defense. The other side went deathly quiet.

The Sheriff's voice had a taken on a dangerous undertone. "Scott. Did you just laugh at this?! This isn't funny my son is -"

"Right here, Dad." Stiles could hear the sharp intake of breath and the sigh of relief his father took a moment later.

"Oh thank god. I was so worried that something happened. If something did- Wait, where are you?"

"I'm at 176 Roosevelt Lane. And before you ask I'm fine, no bruises or bumps. Now I have a question for you how much money did you bring?" Trevor's laughter could be heard in the living room. It had caused the two super-hearers to jump at its abruptness.

"How did you- Never mind. Yes, I brought money, but I'm not telling you how much. I'm actually waiting at the motel room, you know, where you are supposed to be."

"Ah. It'll be like 10-15 minutes then. Don't worry we'll wait up for you. I only got to the part where Trevor found me."

The Sheriff laughed. "You said 176 Roosevelt Lane, right?"

"Yep."

"Okay. I have to let you go to use the GPS."

His dad's voice was laced with concern. Guilt washed over him when he realized that he had caused the anxiety and hesitation Stiles heard in his voice.

"Don't worry, Dad. You'll see me in a few minutes." Stiles voice was soft and he turned away so he was not facing his friends.

"See you soon, Stiles."

"See ya, Dad." Stiles ended the call and tossed the phone back to Scott, who caught it with ease.

He called out for Trevor in the kitchen. He appeared moments later by sticking his head out of the doorway.

"Yeah?"

"My dad will be here shortly, just in case your dad needs to know for the drink making."

Trevor chuckled. "I'll inform him." He disappeared back into the kitchen where you could hear some muffled laughter escaping from its depths.

"How did you actually retrieve your memories?" Lydia's voice cut through the cheerful atmosphere. Stiles paused before he answered.

"I told you the truth. After seeing you guys near the boardwalk, it triggered the memories to return." He minutely swallowed knowing that Lydia was studying his every move. He broke eye contact with her and internally winced at seeing the expressions of the two 'were's on the couch. Both were sporting the same look; eyes squinted and mouths drawn into a line. They must have detected that he had lied.

Before Stiles could lose to his guilt, Trevor walked out of the kitchen juggling four glasses. His dad not far behind shaking his head at his son's antics, he was also carrying three more glasses. As soon as Trevor set the glasses down on the glass of the coffee table, he was enveloped in a hug. He frantically looked for Stiles figuring that it would be Stiles hugging him, but he found that he was now leaning against the bar talking to the red head – err, Lydia.

"Thank you for all you have done for Stiles." Scott said as he released him as quickly as he had hugged him.

"It's really no problem. We're glad to have found Fa-Stiles in one piece. Fatal mistake on their part 'cos now we can identify them." Trevor had a wild look in his eyes and Stiles looked up to see that Scott soon got the same look.

"Oh no. No. No way." Stiles set down the glass forgetting his conversation with Lydia who had gone quiet after noticing Trevor's slip up.

"What?" Scott and Trevor said at the same time. Both looking at each other in confusion at their synchronization.

"No to either of your plans."

Trevor sputtered and leaned against the couch's armrest. He crossed his arms over his chest in protest.

"Why not?" Scott whined. "It's actually a good plan!"

"You're plans never work!" Stiles retorted.

"The one with Gerald did." Scott said smugly as he leaned back into the couch cushions. "And your plans aren't any better! I always end up hurt when we follow your plans." He wagged his finger at Stiles.

"That was pure dumb luck." Stiles shot back. "And that's not t-"

"If both of you would stop bickering like an old married couple, we could discuss this like adults." Lydia spoke up leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees.

"None of us are legal yet, Lydia. Besides Trevor's dad." Scott pointed out.

"Wait. Trevor, aren't you 18 or something?" Stiles inquired his face a mask of concentration as he searched his memories for any inclination of the other's age.

Trevor laughed loudly. "Or something. I'm barely 16."

"What?" Stiles choked out. "You're younger than all of us!"

"Why would you think any differently?" Trevor still had tremors of laughs running through his system.

"Hmmm. I don't know. Just that you look older than me."

"Everyone looks older than you." Scott joked under his breath. Stiles gave him a pointed stare.

"So what's your plan?" Malia piped up. Stiles jumped forgetting that the were-coyote was on the couch behind him since she had been quiet for some time.

"Well Stiles here could describe them while we wait for his dad to arrive."

"That's not a bad idea." Michael interjected. Trevor beamed at his dad. "But, how about we wait for his father to show because as a police officer – that correct?" Michael asked Stiles who nodded in return. "-he has slightly more experience with these type of situations." Michael wiped his hands on a towel and threw it on a hook that rested just inside the kitchen.

No sooner than he said that, the two people with enhanced hearing, their heads shot up and eyes focused on the door. Stiles focused on his hearing. It increased so much that he winced when he heard the car – probably his dad's patrol car – door slam. He was tempted to shut it off, but he could hear the way his dad's heart pounded and it matched his quick steps up the walkway to the porch. Before he could make a move to the door, Trevor darted forward nearly clipping himself on the lamp by the door. He whipped open the door to see the Sheriff jogging up the porch steps. Stiles bolted to the door standing next to Trevor who to Stiles dismay was slightly taller than he.

Stiles grumbled to himself about life and its fairness, not noticing his father freeze on the top step. Trevor moved away from the door, which caught Stiles attention. He looked to his father who was eyeing his son looking for any sign of damage.

"Hey, Dad. Long time no see." He weakly waved and stepped forward to hug his dad who mirrored the movement. His dad's arms soon encircled Stiles.

"You're okay." His dad rasped out.

Stiles bit his tongue to prevent himself from speaking about what had happened.

"Yeah Dad." His dad pulled back and patted him on the shoulder. His eyes narrowed.

"You're tan. Well tanner than when you left."

"That's what happens to people at the beach." Stiles quipped letting go of his dad and moving to bring the conversation into the house. He dad scoffed as he followed.

Stiles shut the door as his dad introduced himself to both Trevor and Michael. Stiles looked around for a comfortable seat. His dad turned to him, his eyes were accusing so was his tone.

"How come you didn't answer your phone? Also, why are you here instead of your hotel room?"

"See now. I was taken and so were my memories. They arrived -"he waved to the Pack, "- they triggered the memories to return. They found the address, though I don't know how. Apparently, they called you, but didn't tell you that they switched locations. That leads us to now. You arrived just before I started to describe my kidnappers." His father winced at his easygoing tone, but Stiles was only speaking in this way to prevent his anxiety from returning.

"And pray tell why you didn't go to the local police?"

"They were werewolves." Stiles stated.

Silence descended as he let the information sink in. Stiles could see the gears turning in his dad's head, as he looked Stiles over again for any injuries. His shoulders sagged in relief as he noticed that his son was fine, physically at least. Mentally –

'Well, Stiles isn't driving himself home. He is going to be riding with me in the car.' The Sheriff thought firmly.

"Alright. Can I have a pen and paper?" The Sheriff asked breaking the silence.

"You bet." Mike said as he opened the drawer on the little side table next to the couch. He handed the items to the Sheriff who sat up straighter in his chair.

He clicked the pen looking expectantly to Stiles.

"What? ...Wait, never mind." He took a swig of the flavored water that Lydia had handed him when he sat down next to Malia before leaning forward.

"Okay." He clapped and looked to Malia who gave him a reassuring look. He cleared his throat before starting.

"Well, I only saw two of them, but they wanted information on our numbers, so I assume that they wanted to know if they have more members." He took note of Scott's face.

"For an attack." Stiles said flatly.

"The two that questioned me were the Alpha and I believe her Second. They took me from my hotel room as I was sleeping, probably lackeys that did it. Their Alpha's name is Melissa – I know weird coincidence – she handled me more than Jacob did. She was tall, maybe a few inches shorter than me, but I'm not sure considering I was tied to a chair." Stiles did not miss the dark look that crossed Scott and his dad's faces.

"She was blond, it was curled, but I couldn't tell if they were natural or not. It was a honey blond with some light tints to it. There was very little lighting so it could be lighter than that. She was pale almost paler than me-", 'at the time' he thought.

"- Her eyes were most extraordinary. They were so green when she wasn't flashing her Alpha eyes at me. I can't even begin to describe their actual color because they seemed to change with the light. In the dark, they seemed to be a forest green, but when she was up close they were a lime green. Now, the other person looked more like a werewolf. He reminded me of Derek; all buff and stern – only he didn't do that eyebrow thing. He was average height like Scott-"

Stiles ignored Scott's indigent shout.

"-He had brown hair that reached his ears. He was a normal color; not tan, but not pale either. His eyes were interesting because they were gold."

Mike took in this information the quickest.

"That means the Alpha was the one who has been killing people."

That got everyone's – minus the Murúchs – attention.

"Killings?" The Sheriff had an edge to his voice. Only his son would pick a place where there had been werewolf killings as a vacation spot.

"Yeah. There have been three killings within the past month. We suspect that they have someone on the force considering they are calling them shark attacks."

"Well this has been entertaining, but I have work." Mike moved to the door.

Both Lydia and the Sheriff gave Stiles a look that said that they were not through with the conversation. He sighed knowing that he was in for a full interrogation later. The Sheriff wrote down the last few details on the pad quickly.

Trevor rose from the armrest of the couch.

"I'm going with you."

"Me, too." Stiles voiced from the couch.

"I believe we all are." The Sheriff said as the Beacon Hills pack stood at the same time as Stiles.

Mike just shrugged and grabbed the keys off the hook above the light switch. Trevor was the last one out of the house therefore, he was the one who turned the light off and closed the door. His dad was quick and locked the door with ease.

Trevor struck up a conversation with Scott and Malia about the shop while the Sheriff discussed how to further precautionary measures with Mike. Meanwhile, Stiles navigated his way through a conversation with Lydia about how his fishing trip earlier this week went.

* * *

Carrie had arrived to work late because of the impromptu meeting Alpha had called this morning. It was called to discuss her seeing the boy, whose name she couldn't pronounce nor did she care, with Trevor the other day. She had to recount the encounter before the whole pack, which took longer than originally thought because they had diverged off topic when she described his physical state. From which, a heated debate, about whether to offer him a place in the pack or make sure that he stayed dead once and for all, had ensued.

She was spared from Michael's wrath when he had to leave for a family emergency, well, according to Xaviera who was put in charge whenever he left the shop. With the boss-man gone and a friend in the head positon, Carrie could let her mind wander without repercussions.

That all changed when the scent of foreign wolves filled the air. She stiffened and readied herself to either run or fight.

She saw them walk through the door and studied them. Michael was in front wearing his classic khakis and polo combo. He was walking side by side with some man in a brown outfit.

'Boring.' She thought and averted her attention to the teenagers in the back. Trevor was looking as handsome as ever in his t-shirt and trunks. However, he was talking to two new people.

The female was wearing torn skinnies with strapped combat boots with a graphic tee under a dark blue tee. Carrie soon switched to the male. He had styled hair and his fashion sense was good, but his jaw threw her off.

'How does that even happen?' She thought as she shook her head.

The boy was wearing a lime green shirt and black trunks. He was sporting the gray shoes that they had purchased the other day. The red head had on black leggings with ankle boots with a heel. She was wearing a green dress with a black jacket. She sniffed again and noticed that two people by Trevor had frozen, their eyes flashing blue and red.

Quickly, Carried ducked behind the sunglasses display case.

'Oh shit.' A pit formed in her stomach and figuring that running was her best bet she tried to maneuver her way to the door. She could see the two wolves prowling the store. The girl heading in Carrie's direction and the Alpha walking towards the shoes. Her boss stood with the old man in front of the door as if they were guarding it.

'Dammit, they are.' Carrie corrected herself. With her enhanced eyesight, she saw the gun before the badge, which caused her heartbeat to pick up.

'I'll have to use my speed and strength to get b-' her thought was cut off with a yell. Her head snapped in the direction of the sound.

"We know you're in here. If you surrender peacefully, we won't hurt you. We just want to talk to your alpha." The boy-the newly turned werewolf- was speaking.

Even if Carrie did not hear the angry growls that echoed through the air from the wolves and humans alike at his promise not to hurt her, she could hear the skip in his heart that told her he was lying. Carrie waited by the snow globes, slowly inching forward to the exit. She had calmed her heart to avoid detection.

After straining her hearing and deciding that it was now or never, he ran to the door. She shouldered past the police officer – she'll have to talk to Richard about this rogue officer – on the way out. She heard her pursuers and pushed her legs to their limit. She ran until she saw a huge group of people down by the pier. She ran in their direction as an idea formed in her mind. She thoroughly rubbed her scent on each person she ran past.

She did not let herself look back afraid that if she did she would lose precious time or she would fall thus allowing them to catch her. She ran until she reached the warehouse where she pushed open the cast iron door and slammed it shut. Carrie locked it as she howled to alert the other pack members to reinforce the other entrances. She used her last bit of energy to sprint up the three flights of stairs to reach her Alpha.

Carrie burst into the room shouting that the True Alpha was in town and they wanted the Alpha. She did not care that she interrupted a military meeting of her Alpha, nor the fact that she could have led them to the warehouse, only that she needed to warn her Alpha of the danger that these wolves presented. She only succumbed to the darkness that had been encroaching on her vision since she entered the warehouse when her Alpha said she did the right thing and could rest. Carrie collapsed onto the caring arms of her Alpha. She missed the call to arms and her Alpha saying the plans were to be moved forward. All that she cared now was that her Pack was safe as she drifted off into her dreams.

* * *

**AN: Wow so how about that chapter huh. Hopefully ya'll enjoyed the little scene with Mama Stilinski and that it actually makes sense. Okay lets see next chapter is in the works so I'm not entirely sure when I'll be able to post it. Will the pack track down Carrie? What are the so called plans Alpha Melissa has? How will Michael and Trevor react knowing now that one of their employees was a part of the killer pack? Will there be a fight? Who will die? Find out next time in Chapter 11: Off to War.**

**Leave a review if ya'll feel like you enjoyed the chapter.**

**FandomsUnited signing off~**


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